


Until the Storm

by missmissa85



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-05
Updated: 2016-04-28
Packaged: 2018-03-29 02:57:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 23,166
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3879559
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/missmissa85/pseuds/missmissa85
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Post-Age of Ultron. "Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold; mere anarchy is loose upon the world, the blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere the ceremony of innocence is drowned; the best lack all conviction, while the worst are full of passionate intensity." -W.B. Yeats. Between Ultron and the looming storm of Civil War, two people put their lives back together.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I'm fairly sure most of you would rather I update Skipping (and I will...eventually), but I've been distracted by the development of the MCU. For those of you who have not seen Age of Ultron, please stop reading now. For those of you who have, they created a nice break in the action for a Steve/Darcy story to actually develop and it wouldn't have to be terribly AU. Thanks for reading.

“Huh,” was all Darcy could manage to say when she stopped her Accord on the gravel drive in front of the white glass and steel structure in upstate New York.

“Darcy Lewis! How’d you get talked into this circus?”

She turned around and smiled at the grinning figure of Clint Barton coming toward her looking completely un-Avenger-like in jeans and flannel. “What are you doing here, Barton? I heard you retired,” she said as she reached up to hug him.

“From full-time Avenging, yes,” he said, returning her hug. “I still come down occasionally to consult and train.”

“Getting bored with civilian life?”

“Woman, I have three children. I come here to relax,” he replied, eliciting a giggle from Darcy. “You here to see Selvig?”

“Yeah. I think he wants to offer me a job.”

“You sound so enthusiastic about it,” Clint said as he led her into the building.

“I just… He’s practically Jane’s godfather. What if he winds up agreeing with her?”

“I heard about Foster. Of course, the whole world’s pretty much heard it too.”

“Some people think it’s understandable. I think it’s impossible to turn on people you say you love like that, or it should be.”

“You’re probably going to think this is strange, but I kind of agree with her.”

Darcy stopped in her tracks and said, “She’s essentially saying the group of people you ‘consult and train’ should be thrown in jail.”

“That’s not what’s she’s said.”

“But that’s what she means, and I know because I’ve been with her this whole time.”

Clint held his hands up and said, “Okay, okay. Down, girl.”

She glared at him and said, “I am not a puppy.”

“No, you’re more like a full grown pit bull. It’s a compliment, Darce. Roll with it.”

They continued down a little farther and voices drifted back toward them.

“What were you thinking, man? You could’ve killed me!”

“Will you stop being such a drama queen? You’re starting to take after Stark.”

“You wanna say that again?!”

“This should be interesting,” Clint muttered as she followed him into a large, open room.

“That’s enough!” an uncostumed Steve Rogers yelled, standing between Falcon and War Machine.

“He started it.”

“What are you, twelve?”

“Everyone, just calm—”

“Don’t you dare!” Rogers suddenly yelled, turning on the woman clad in red.

She jumped and timidly said, “I wasn’t.”

“Steve, calm down,” Natasha Romanoff said, placing a hand on his shoulder.

He shook her off and hissed, “I’m not him.”

“Geez, Cap’n Tightpants, loosen up,” Darcy said, just loud enough to be heard.

“Who the hell are you?” Steve asked, whipping around to face her.

“Uh, this is—”

“I’m Darcy Lewis,” she said, cutting Clint off.

Steve’s lips pressed into a thin line. “Jane Foster’s assistant.”

“Not anymore. We apparently have distinct philosophical differences.”

“Good for you,” he replied flatly. “We’re done for the day.”

They all watched in silence as he marched out of the room.

Colonel Rhodes sighed deeply and said, “Sorry I almost shot you.”

“Sorry I popped you in the face for almost shooting me,” Sam Wilson replied.

“What was so hard about doing that while Captain friggin’ America was still in here?” Clint asked them.

“Are you alright?”

Everyone’s attention turned to the Vision, who had been silent through the previous exchange, as he gently spoke to the woman in red. She smiled weakly back at him and said, “He doesn’t really trust me. I cannot blame him for that.”

“His reactions today were more…harsh than usual,” Vision pointed out.

“Yeah, well, you can hit the showers or whatever,” Natasha said. “It’s the weekend. We’ll call you if there’s an emergency.” She came up the steps toward Clint and Darcy and said, “Walk with me.”

When they were out of earshot of the training room, Clint said, “How long has he been that way?”

“All week,” she replied, looking at Darcy, “ever since your boss said heroes like the Avengers should be kept on a tight leash.”

“Not my boss anymore. Don’t know how many times I have to say that.”

“Then why are you here?”

“Nat, I know her. Give her a break.”

“I can speak for myself, Hawkeye,” Darcy told him. “Look, I stayed with Jane for so long because she needed someone to make sure she, like, ate and stuff and because it was amazing. Inter-dimensional travel, gravometric anomalies, other stuff I can’t pronounce. I got to experience things other people can’t imagine. Some of them were kind of scary, but some of them were just plain awesome. But now Jane travels all the time and doesn’t need me to take care of her, and…she’s stopped looking for the better and brighter things. I couldn’t stay.”

“Okay, then,” Natasha said before turning and walking down the hall. “Are you coming? Selvig is probably waiting for you.”

* * *

 

“So…what do you think?”

Darcy looked up at the much taller man and said, “I think it’s weird that you’re here, and Jane’s not.”

“Darcy, you know why she said those things.”

“I know she’s hurting because he left…again. I just don’t think it’s an excuse.”

“What happened to your young man? Ian, was it?”

Darcy rolled her eyes. “I got caught up in the moment. It only lasted about two weeks. I tell myself he was a HYDRA plant when I feel bad about it.”

Selvig chuckled as a knock sounded at the door to the lab. They turned to find Steve Rogers even more dressed down in jeans and a compression t-shirt. “I’m sorry if I’m interrupting,” he said quietly.

“Not at all,” Selvig told him. “I’m just waiting patiently for this one to give me an answer.”

“This isn’t a job at Starbucks. It does actually make sense to think about it for a minute or two,” Darcy replied.

“Well, you can give me an answer on Monday,” Erik told her. “I have a date tonight.”

“Look at you, you silver fox,” Darcy teased.

“Stop it, or I’ll rescind my offer,” he teased back as he picked up his jacket and briefcase.

“Like you could find anyone else willing to join this circus.”

“Is that a yes?” Selvig asked, looking back at her.

“Of course it’s a yes,” Darcy replied, smirking with a slight shake of the head.

“Excellent. See you on Monday, then. Captain.”

“Dr. Selvig,” Steve said, as the man walked past him, leaving him alone with Darcy.

“I, uh, I wanted to apologize for my behavior earlier,” Steve told her. “Sort of had a tough week, but that’s really no excuse.”

“I’m not really the one you should be apologizing to,” she told him.

“I’ve already talked to Wanda,” he replied matter-of-factly. “I know when I’m wrong.”

“Well, there’s a talent some of your friends seem to lack.”

“Yeah…well, Clint’s about to take off and he wanted me to invite you to dinner at his house this evening,” Steve said with forced brightness.

Darcy cocked her head curiously. “He sent you to invite me?”

“His exact words were, ‘Go tell Lewis she’s coming to dinner,’ but I thought I’d be polite about it,” he told her with a genuine smile.

“Of course you did,” Darcy said. “I guess I need to grab my stuff from my car.”

“Pretty sure Hawkeye’s already taken care of that,” Steve told her as they started out of the lab. “He doesn’t really take no for an answer.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“How do you know Barton, exactly?” Steve asked her.

“He was in New Mexico with Coulson and his goons when Thor made his initial splash down,” Darcy explained. “When they gave all our stuff back, he had my iPod, but he told me this sob story about how his son had been begging for one, but he couldn’t really afford it on a government salary and I caved. I mean, I knew he was full of shit to an extent, but I’m a sucker when it comes to kids.”

“You might want to watch your language, Ms. Lewis,” Natasha said, apparently appearing out of the ether. “The captain doesn’t like such talk.”

“That joke stopped being funny six months ago,” Steve told the red head as Darcy looked between them amusedly.

“The iPod’s been passed down to Clint’s daughter, Lila, by the way,” Natasha continued. “Cooper managed not to destroy or lose it.”

“Well, they made those things to last before they started making a new phone every year,” Darcy replied.

“True enough.”

“Hurry up, you guys!” Clint yelled at them from the ramp of a Quinjet as they entered the aircraft hangar. “Laura’s marinated some steaks. We’re grillin’ out tonight.”

“You know I’m a vegetarian, right?” Darcy asked as she walked up the ramp.

Clint raised an eyebrow and she smiled in reply. “Just kidding. Bring on the heart disease.”

Steve snorted a laugh as he strapped in and Clint smirked at Natasha and quietly said, “A smile. Miraculous.”

“What are you playing at, Barton?” she asked quietly as she followed him to the cockpit.

“Me? Play? I don’t know what you mean.”


	2. Chapter 2

“Daddy! Daddy!  You’re back!”

A boy and a girl, about twelve and seven-years-old respectively, suddenly engulfed Clint before he made it all the way down the ramp.

“Hey, I’ve only been gone two days, not two years,” he said hugging them back.

Darcy watched as the boy ran to give Natasha a hug and the little girl jumped into Steve’s arms where her threw her over his shoulder and spun her around as she squealed in delight.

“Who are you?” the little boy asked, finally spotting Darcy.

“Cooper, manners,” his father admonished him.

“Sorry.”

“It’s okay,” she replied, extending her hand to the young man. “I’m Darcy Lewis. I think you acquired my iPod a few years ago.”

“Oh, yeah,” Cooper said, shaking her hand.

“ _I_ have it now,” Lila said, still hanging off of Steve’s shoulder.

“I thought you guys would be hungry,” a woman with a baby about three months old in her arms called out to them.  “I’ve already got the coals going on the grill.”

“You are amazing,” Clint said as he met her in the field. “Do you want to get married?”

“Sorry, kid, I’m already taken.”

Clint grinned and kissed his wife and youngest child. “Come on, everybody. We got cold beer inside.”

... 

Darcy wasn’t sure what she expected from the Barton residence; maybe automated crossbows in the walls, or a bunch of hidden cameras, but the most technologically advanced thing she could see was a flat screen television.

“Not what you expected?” Natasha asked, the youngest Barton asleep in her arms as she walked around Darcy to sit on the couch in the living room.

“Well, not really.  It’s kind of idyllic.  You don’t really expect that with people in your line of work.”

“Well, Clint lived a very compartmentalized life for a long time to keep it this way,” Natasha explained, looking down at Nathaniel. “It wasn’t always easy, but it was worth it.”

Darcy looked out the window to find Steve swinging an ax to chop firewood.  “It’s June. Is firewood really necessary?”

“No, but it gives him something to do.  Steve doesn’t sit idle very well.  Besides, Clint and Laura sell the firewood and he’s basically giving them free labor.”

“Huh.  Does he drink?”

“He can’t get drunk, but he is always willing to take a beer.”

“Well, that’s good,” Darcy said, heading to the kitchen. “He’s not a total tight-ass then.”

... 

“I think someone’s hungry,” Natasha said as she handed Nathaniel off to his mother who was in a rocking chair on the porch.

“I think you’re right,” Laura replied, taking her son and adjusting her shirt so she could feed him.

Natasha turned to Clint as he tended the grill and said, “I think your evil plan is working.”

Clint followed her gaze to where Darcy was handing Steve a bottle of beer.  He smirked and said, “It’s not an evil plan.  It’s not even really a plan, it’s more of a notion.”

“And just how long have you had this notion?”

“Since she called him Cap’n Tightpants,” Clint answered. “He loves that show. No way that reference didn’t land.”

Natasha rolled her eyes.  “You know there’s only very few ways that this could actually end well.”

“Have a little optimism.”

“I’m Russian, remember?  Optimism isn’t really in my genes.”

... 

“Thanks,” Steve said, taking a breath as he opened the bottle Darcy handed him.

“Thought a beer might help you loosen up, although I’ve been informed you can’t get drunk,” Darcy said as she opened her own bottle. “Ugh.  I’ve been in Europe too long.  I forgot how much American beer really sucks.”

Steve smiled as he sat down on the stump.  “I know what you mean.  I didn’t really drink at all until I got to Europe.”

“Really?” Darcy asked.

“Yeah, well, my mom was kind of a teetotaler. Left over from attitude from Prohibition, I guess, and it always tended to make me sick before…”

“I guess it sucked to be you.”

“Still does sometimes,” Steve said, looking down into the bottle in his hands.

Darcy narrowed her gaze at him and said, “You ever think some of that might come down to your own attitude?”

“Excuse me?” Steve asked, looking up at her.

“If you think it’s an immeasurable burden, then that’s all it’s ever gonna be.”

Steve stood up and said, “You think I should ‘loosen up’? Act like Tony? That’s done the world a whole lot of good.”

“From what I understand, Tony Stark taking it easy wasn’t really what caused the problem.”

“Hey, guys!  Dinner’s ready!” Clint called them from the porch.

Steve walked past Darcy without even bothering to look her way.

... 

“The meat was great, but the rest of the meal was excellent, Laura,” Steve said as the sun sank behind the horizon.

“Thank you, Steve.”

“I thought you guys were going to get rid of the dinning room, not just move it into the sunroom,” Natasha said before taking a deep swig from her beer.

“Well, it’s summer.  It’s a good use for it for right now.”

“Mommy, can I show Auntie Nat my new dollhouse?” Lila asked, tugging on her mother’s sleeve.

“I don’t know, why don’t you ask Auntie Nat?”

Lila looked at Natasha imploringly and the red head enthusiastically replied, “Of _course_ I want to see your new dollhouse.”

The little girl grinned wildly as she took Natasha’s hand and led her up the stairs.  Clint passed them and said, “Whoa, slow down, sisters.”  He came into the sunroom and kissed the top of his wife’s head. "Nate's finally down for the count.  Cooper, don't you have some homework to do?"

"Dad, it's June," Cooper whined, looking up from the game on his phone.

"And school is never out in this house," Clint replied.  "You can either do your homework, or do the dishes."

"Okay, I'm going," Cooper muttered, handing his father the phone before rushing up the stairs.

"Sweet. Now I get to beat his high score," Clint said, plopping into the seat next to his wife.

"You're an amazing role model, Hawkeye," Darcy told him.

"I do try," he joked back.

"Well, I guess it's time for me to get back," Darcy said, standing and picking up her plate.

"You're welcome to stay," Laura said, taking the plate from her.

"Yeah, Nat's staying, and Steve--"

"Actually, I've got to get back," Steve said, cutting Clint off. "Got work to do."

"Steve, it's the weekend."

"Yeah, and there's no rest for the weary.”

“I thought your name was Captain America, not Captain Cliché,” Clint replied, not looking up from the phone.  “Besides, I just locked the jet down.  You’re not going anywhere.”

“Clint!”

“What, precisely, was the point of asking if you weren’t actually going to give us a choice?” Darcy asked him.

“Manners,” Clint replied, smirking. “You really want to call me an asshole, don’t you?”

“Yes,” Steve replied shortly, heading out of the room.

“Where you going?” Clint called after him, twisting around in his chair.

“I’m going to help your wife with the dishes.”

Darcy leaned across the table and conspiratorially said, “You know, he’s _way_ better looking than you _and_ he’s actually making himself useful.”

Clint looked up at her and said, “I’m not worried.  Well, I’m not worried about my marriage.  Steve, on the other hand…totally worried about that guy.  What did you say to him before dinner?”

“I don’t even know,” Darcy groaned, letting her head roll back over the top of the chair.  “I was really just trying to give the man a beer, and then he said something about how it sucks to be him and I said that might be down to his attitude, and then the subject of Tony Stark came up.”

“You know, Cap crashed a plane and came out seventy years later.  You just crashed and burned,” Clint told her, shaking his head. “Isn’t your new job going to basically be about working between the team and the scientists?”

“Yes.”

“It would help if you could possibly have more than a two minute conversation with the leader of the Avengers.”

“Had that thought, Hawkeye,” she replied. 

“Well, I’m sure he’s already apologized to you, so maybe you should apologize to him this time.”

“But I’m not wrong.”

Clint actually giggled and tipped his chair back away from the table.  “Oh god, Darcy, I’m flashing back to my first year of marriage. I swear I had this same conversation with my dad.”

She narrowed her gaze at him. “Nobody’s getting married.”

“Come on, D.  You’ve been in our world long enough to know that this job is basically gonna be a marriage.  Sometimes, to keep the thing going, you have to swallow your pride because the fact of the matter is that no one is ever one hundred percent right.”

Darcy stood up from the table and said, “I’m gonna go get my stuff from the plane.”

Clint sighed and shook his head as she left the sunroom.  A few moments later, he felt a pair of familiar arms wrap around his neck and smiled as his wife kissed his cheek.

“That’s some sage marriage advice you’re handing out there, but I think your little notion might be crashing and burning,” she said into his ear.

He turned his head to look at her and said, “Well, I have some _other_ notions I’d really love to have your help on.”

“Go finish the dishes with Steve, and _then_ we’ll talk about your notions.”

 

 


	3. Chapter 3

Darcy found herself waking in the middle of the night. Flashes of white light bolted and streaked across the sky, but no sound of thunder reached her ears. She wrapped a borrowed bathrobe over her t-shirt and crept out of the guest room and down the stairs. Once outside, she slowly walked around the wrap-around porch, letting the sharp smell of oncoming rain fill her nostrils.  When she reached the side of the house facing the lightning, she found Steve in a rocking chair; beer bottle in his hand, two more at his feet.  She froze at the corner, unsure if she would soon find herself being snapped at should she approach.

“You gonna stand there all night?” Steve asked, not looking away from the flashing sky.

“Guess not,” she replied, gingerly approaching him and sitting down in the rocking chair next to him. “Can’t sleep?”

Steve shook his head.  “I don’t sleep well here.”

“Really?” she asked, here eyebrows arched upward.  “This place is kind of the whole American dream ideal.  I thought that’d be right up your alley.”

He continued to stare at the horizon and replied, “You don’t know anything about me.”

“Then help me out,” Darcy pleaded.  “I’m not going anywhere.  Other than the fact that I never actually graduated college and therefore do not appear qualified to do anything else, I really do believe in what the Avengers stand for.  You’re all symbolic of the fact that we can overcome our differences for the common good.  You give people hope.”

“Not according to everyone.  Not according to your boss.”

“Oh, my God!  You stupid son of a bitch!  Have you not listened to a single thing I’ve said?” she yelled, jumping out of the chair leaving it rocking wildly behind her.  “Jane won an award and took the opportunity blast Thor, blaming him for the Chitauri invasion as if Loki freaking SHIELD had nothing to do with it, and then she just kept going until she was calling for Dr. Banner’s arrest.  I started crying when she said ‘the Hulk should be extinguished.’ She was my friend and she was suddenly talking about executing someone and I just-I couldn’t be there.  I’m not her, you jackass!  I’m not her!”

Steve had stood up at some point in Darcy’s tirade and was looking down on her, but she didn’t shrink back under his gaze.  She bit her lip to keep her breaths continuing on raggedly.  A crack and a boom split the atmosphere and seemed to rattle Darcy’s bones and she flinched, breaking eye contact with him.  Somewhere inside the house, the baby wailed.

“Okay,” Steve said quietly.

Darcy blinked as he walked past her.  “That’s all I get?  Okay?” she called after him.

He stopped at the door of the house and without looking back at her, said, “That’s all I’ve got.”

…

Clint’s home often just seemed too perfect.  The sun was coming up over the hills in a flash of pink and orange, unabashed by the storm that had happened mere hours before.  Birds tweeted happily and roosters crowed and the chickens clucked as they ranged across the yard.  It was the sort of place Steve used to dream about as a kid, and the sort of place he’d given up on being in since he was a kid.

“You want to talk about it?”

He hadn’t known Natasha was there, but Steve had gotten to the place where he was never surprised at her sudden appearances.  He filled a cup of coffee and set it in front of her on the kitchen table and sat down across from her with a cup of his own.  “Talk about what?” he asked.

“Don’t play coy with me, Rogers.  You’re no good at it.  You can tell me why Lewis was screaming at you, or maybe why there’s an unhealthy collection of beer bottles on the porch that wasn’t there when the rest of us went to bed.”

“You know beer doesn’t affect me.”

“Then why bother?  Were you hoping for a placebo effect?”

“What?  You worried I’m becoming an alcoholic?”

“No.  I’m just worried about you.  The way you snapped at Wanda…”

“I didn’t want her in their heads.”

“Steve, if you mistrust her that much, you shouldn’t have her on the team.”

“That’s not—I don’t mistrust her.  I just want them to sort out their problems without her interference.”

“That’s bullshit and you know it,” she told him flatly.  “What did she show you back in the salvage yard?”

Steve shook his head.  “Nothing.  She didn’t show me anything.”

“Now I know for a fact that’s not true.”

“You don’t know everything.  You just act like you do.”

Natasha blinked at the sound of her own words coming back on her.  She leaned back and folded her arms across her chest.  “You don’t have to be Greatest Generation’s bastion of stoicism and suffer in silence, you know?”

“Natasha.”

“Was it Barnes?  I know you’re still looking and coming up empty.”

“Stop it.”

“Or was it Carter?  You know, just because you missed your chance with her doesn’t mean—”

“Goddammit, Natasha, stop!” Steve bellowed, slamming his cup on the table, shattering it and splattering the brown liquid across the surface.  He heard a little gasp from the doorway and whipped around to see Clint’s daughter standing stock-still and staring at him with wide eyes.  “Lila,” he said gently, rising from his chair.  The sound of her name knocked the little girl out of her shock and she sped away from the kitchen at her top speed.  Steve had never felt more sick as he staggered out of the kitchen door and into the yard.

…

 She found Steve in a darker corner of the barn.  Despite his height and the breadth of his shoulders, he looked every bit like a little boy with his knees hugged up to his chest and his forehead resting atop them.  She gingerly approached him and quietly said, “Hey.”        

Steve jumped up and rushed to say, “Laura, I’m so sorry. I—”

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” she assured him, placing her hands on his shoulders.  “I have more than one coffee cup and kids are resilient.  Lila will be fine.  I came out here to make sure _you_ were all right.”

“I, um—”

“Don’t even try to lie to me, Steve.  I’m a mom.  That makes me a better lie detector than the best spy in the world,” she told him, gently squeezing his arms.

He chuckled weakly and shook his head.  “No.  I’m not all right,” he said, pulling out of her light grasp.

She watched as he turned his back on her.  She folded her arms across her chest and said, “Well, I doubt it’s just one thing that’s upsetting you.  I don’t think it’s just what the Maximoff girl showed you, or even what’s going on with that Foster woman, so what is it?”

A long silence followed before Steve took a deep breath and straightened his shoulders. “Ultron said that I was just a soldier pretending that I could survive without a war,” he told her without turning around to face her.  “And he’s right.  I’ve been fighting my _whole_ life: sickness, bullies, Nazis, Hydra.  Maybe that’s all I am now.  Maybe that’s all I can ever be.”

“Steve,” she said, pulling on his arm until he faced her, “yesterday, I watched my daughter jump into your arms and I just thought, ‘that man’s gonna make a wonderful father someday.’ Call me old fashioned.”

Steve smiled weakly.  Laura continued, “You have responsibilities, yes, but the way you live your life, the choices you make, are yours.  You can choose to make a life.  I have three children for proof.”

“It’s not really the same.”

“Actually, it really is.”

Steve watched as she walked out of the barn.  He had always been a fighter, but he also rarely considered what happened if they fight ever ended.  He wasn’t the futurist.  That was Tony. 

He blinked in the sunlight and heard a small voice say, “Uncle Steve?”

He looked down and saw Lila staring up at him with wide eyes.  He knelt down to her level and said, “Lila, I’m sorry I—”

The little girl’s arms around his neck cut him off midsentence.  After an unsteady moment, he hugged her back and said, “What’s this for?”

Lila let go just enough to look Steve in the eyes.  “I always feel better whenever Mommy hugs me,” she explained. “I thought a hug might make you feel better too.”

He smiled and pulled her close as he lifted her off the ground.  “It does, Lila.  It does.”

 


	4. Chapter 4

Darcy wondered if every Monday morning was going to be like this one. She had to dive under a desk to avoid a flying piece of what was probably very expensive lab equipment. She was also very much regretting her decision to try and look professional by wearing a skirt and heels. Every Monday couldn’t possibly be as bad as this.

Another crash sounded above her head and another person dove under the desk with her.

“Hey, I don’t think we really got to meet the other day. I’m Sam Wilson.”

She blinked and stared at the hand he offered. “Darcy Lewis,” she told him. “Do you know what that thing is?”

“Isn’t that supposed to be your job?”

“Dude, I haven’t even gotten my coffee yet! Aren’t you supposed to be an Avenger? Can’t you avenge something?”

“Do I look like I have my wings right now?”

“Stop!” a heavily accented voice reverberated throughout the lab.

Darcy crept out from under the desk and Sam steadied her on her heels. The ‘thing’—which was more than a blob, but less than anything else—loomed over Wanda Maximoff, whose red spells seemed to be holding it at bay.

“It’s alright,” she assured it. “You’re going to be just fine.”

One of the scientists from U-Gin poked his head out from hiding and timidly reached up and pulled down a lever on one of the consoles.  The creature disintegrated in a flash of blue light.  Wanda looked as if all the air had been forced from her lungs as her spells dissipated.  She turned her fiery gaze toward the scientist and yelled, “What did you do?!”

“It was destroying everything,” the small, Korean man explained, backing away from the console.

“It was alive!” Wanda insisted.  “It was scared and confused and you murdered it!”

“Hey, hey, everybody just calm down,” Darcy said, rushing between them.

“Who are you to say anything?” Wanda demanded.

“I-I work here,” Darcy replied hesitantly, uncertain of her actual job title.  More confidently she continued, “Look, I can’t even imagine what you just experienced, but rest assured, it’s _not_ going to happen again.”  She turned to glare at the scientist over her glasses. “We’re _not_ going to be creating living things in this lab. That’s _so_ not what we’re here for.”

“Who gave you the right to decide that?” the scientist asked her angrily.

“We did.”

All eyes turned to see Helen Cho standing in the doorway of the main entrance to the lab with her arms folded across her chest. Erik was standing right next to her his hands on his hips. Darcy thought about asking if they were the disapproving parents of this bunch, but immediately thought that might undermine her already tenuous position. Dr. Cho began berating the scientist in rapid-fire Korean and Wanda bolted, tears streaming down her face. Darcy quickly followed her out into the hall.

“Hey, hey,” Darcy said, reaching for the other woman’s arm and circling to face her. “What you just did in there was amazing. You probably kept it from completely destroying the lab or hurting someone.”

“I lied to it,” Wanda said quietly, looking Darcy in the eye. “I told it everything would be all right.”

“You didn’t lie. Somebody else just broke your promise,” Darcy replied, gently squeezing her arm. “You saved us. You did good.”

Wanda smiled and wiped the tears from her face. “Thank you,” she said quietly before walking away.

“That’s a good thing you just did.”

Darcy jumped at the sound of Sam Wilson’s voice. “Dude! You can’t just sneak up on people like that!”

Grinning, Sam said, “Sorry.”

“It’s fine. Just take me to the coffee.”

Sam chuckled and motioned for her to follow him. He lead her into a modern kitchen full of stainless steel appliances and countertops that could have been slate. Darcy rolled her eyes at the row of coffee makers and espresso machines against one wall.

“Can you guys not just keep anything simple?” she asked.

“Apparently not,” Sam replied, reaching into the cabinet and pulling out a shiny, black cup. He poured coffee out of the simplest looking stainless steel machine and said, “Cream and sugar?”

“I like it black.”

“Well, I can’t argue with that,” Sam replied with a smirk.

Darcy rolled her eyes and shook her head as she gratefully took the cup from him. “So what was it that I did that was good? I’d like to know for future reference.”

“With Wanda; you encouraged her. It’s not really something she gets a whole lot of around here,” Sam told her, pouring himself a cup of coffee. “I mean, Cap and Nat try, but there’s always the undercurrent that they don’t really trust her. It’s not as though she doesn’t deserve it in some ways, but she’s trying, and it’s nice that you’re pushing her on the right path.”

Darcy raised an eyebrow. “Were you a psychologist before you took up superheroing?”

Sam chuckled and shook his head. “Not really. I was getting ready to go to grad school for it, though, when I met Captain America and my life kind of went a different direction.”

“You ever regret falling in with an Avenger?” she asked him.

“Not a damn day,” Sam answered easily.

Darcy smiled. “I feel the same way about Thor.”

“Sorry to interrupt,” Steve said, appearing in jeans and t-shirt and a brown leather jacket, “but I’d really like someone to explain to me what just happened in the lab.”

“It’s fine, really, I swear,” Darcy replied quickly. “Some of the U-Gin people accidentally printed a life form or something and it was tearing the place up and Wanda used her mojo to calm it down, but then one of the U-Gin guys released the containment field and the blob monster died while Wanda was still connected to it. It wasn’t pretty, but the U-Gin people aren’t going to be making any more life-forms and I talked to Wanda and I think she’ll be alright.”

Steve’s mouth opened and shut again before he nodded and said, “Okay.”

“Seriously?” Darcy asked, her gaze narrowing toward him. “Is ‘okay’ the only word in your vocabulary?”

Steve returned her steely gaze and turned on his heel and left the room. Darcy scrunched up her face and pinched her nose. Sam looked between Darcy and Steve’s retreating back and said, “I think I missed something.”

Darcy groaned and shoved her cup back at Sam before chasing after Steve. “Hey! Captain! Steve! Mr. Rogers, or whatever the hell I’m supposed to call you! Will you stop? I can’t chase you in these heels!” she asked, removing her shoes in an awkward series of hops as she chased him down the corridor.

Steve turned around in time to see Darcy lose her balance. He grabbed her waist and kept her upright. She latched onto one of his arms with the hand that didn’t have a shoe in it and tightly said, “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

The flatness in Steve’s voice let Darcy know that he only replied to her thanks out of polite habit. She slipped out of her other shoe and he let go of her as she picked it up off the ground. With him looking down on her, she suddenly realized what a huge difference a foot in height made.

“Look. I’m sorry. I’m sorry I snapped at you just now...and on Saturday. And I’m sorry I acted like I actually have any clue what happened with Tony and Ultron. It’s just…been a very stressful morning,” she said in a rush, running out of breath.

Steve’s gaze softened and he sighed slightly. “You’re gonna hate this, but it’s okay,” he told her with a smirk.

Darcy raised an eyebrow. “Oh my God, Captain America is secretly a smart ass. That’s like your hidden super power, isn’t it?”

Steve’s smirk progressed to a grin and he said, “You doing fine, but you should probably consider always wearing shoes you can run in.”

“Thanks for the advice,” Darcy said as he started to back away.

“Any time,” he replied before turning around.

Darcy groaned and looked up at the ceiling before covering her face with her hands.

“Cheer up, girl. Your coffee is still hot,” Sam said, walking up to her with a smile on his face and her coffee cup in his hands.

“Are you always this cheerful?” she asked, taking the cup from him.

“Somebody has to be,” Sam told her. “We got orphans, and assassins, and 95-year-olds running around this place. It can get depressing real quick.”

“You’re a real hero, Sam.”

“You want to have a drink with me?”

Darcy looked at him sideways and said, “Uh, does coffee not count as a drink?”

“I meant an alcoholic drink, away from this mad house, tonight,” Sam told her, “and I’m not hitting on you.”

“I’m not sure if I’m relieved or disappointed about that.”

“Look, I get the feeling you’re going to need a drink after this day, and…I kind of would like to run something by you.”

“Excellent. More work. Just what I need.”

 ...

The broad perception of New York was usually just the glitz and glamour of New York City. Most people completely forgot about the giant state just to the northeast of the city. It had a lot of open spaces—good for keeping the New Avengers semi-hidden—and a proliferation of taverns just off the highways.

It was to one of these establishments, off the highway near Litchfield, that Sam brought Darcy. The proliferation of large, burly, white bikers made her wonder how Sam could possibly feel comfortable in a place like that until she realized that they were all sporting military badges on their leathers and military tats on their arms. It wasn’t a gathering spot for possibly racist criminals; it was a veteran’s bar. Sam had also apparently rescued the owner’s son in his time as a para-rescue and got to drink for free.

“You’re kind of cheap, aren’t you? Taking me out to a place where you don’t actually have to pay for the drinks.”

“Hey, if I knew all you were going to get was a beer, I’d have taken you somewhere where I have to pay. We’d have to drive pretty far, but…”

“Oh my God, if your head gets any bigger, it might explode, and I don’t want to get brains on this shirt.”

Sam laughed and sipped his own beer.

“So…what is it that you want to run by me?”

He placed his beer down on the table’s worn surface, and leaned forward, making sure no one around was listening. “How difficult do you think it is to hide a whole helicarrier?”

“Pretty damned difficult,” Darcy replied, “but we’re talking about Nick Fury. He’s probably never let go of a lot of his old SHIELD resources, and apparently it’s a good thing. Why are you asking?”

“Because I think Fury and Hill are hiding something from us.”

“ _Really_?” Darcy said, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “You think a bunch of spies are hiding something from you? No!”

Sam rolled his eyes and shook his head. “Do you remember the days before SHIELD collapsed?”

“You mean the dude with the metal arm shooting up DC? Yeah, I remember that.”

“The guy with the metal arm was Sergeant James Barnes.”

Darcy’s eyebrows shot up. “You mean Bucky Barnes? Captain America’s best friend who has memorial in the Smithsonian?”

“Yeah, that guy. He was a HYDRA asset. They brainwashed him or something. He didn’t know who he was. But he survived the Triskellion. Steve’s absolutely positive Barnes pulled him from the Potomac. So…he’s out there somewhere, possibly still half brainwashed, and he could be a danger to himself and others. Steve and I have been trying to find him for over a year with no luck,” Sam explained.

“So…what? You think Fury and Hill are hiding information about him from you and Steve?”

Sam shrugged. “I don’t know, but I think you’ve got to have one hell of a support system to repair and hide an entire flying aircraft carrier for over a year.”

Darcy shook her head. “Why are you bringing this to me?”

“Fresh eyes, mostly,” Sam replied. “And you’ve got more experience with SHIELD than I do.”

“Look, the only SHIELD agents I knew were Barton, Coulson, and Sitwell,” Darcy told him. “You know Barton, Loki stabbed Coulson in the chest right in front of Thor, and I have no idea what happened to Sitwell.”

“He got plucked out of the back seat of my car and thrown into oncoming traffic.”

“Seriously?”

“Seriously.”

“Damn.”

“Well, he was HYDRA. He kind of deserved it,” Sam said. “I also know who you are. I’ve met your dad a couple of times, and…I used to get in a lot of trouble with your uncle.”

Darcy’s jaw dropped. “You’re _that_ Sam Wilson?”

Sam laughed. “Yeah, I guess I am.”

“You three nearly got drummed out of the Guard,” Darcy laughed. “If Uncle Max hadn’t taken responsibility…”

“Well, it _was_ his idea, and he knew he’d be okay with a colonel for a brother.”

“Whatever happened to the other guy? Riley, was it?”

Sam looked down into his beer. “RPG. Afghanistan.”

Darcy bit her lip. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Sam assured her. “You see, I lost my wingman, my best friend. Steve lost his, but he’s not really gone. Barnes is out there somewhere. You see, I can deal with my loss because I know Riley’s really gone, but Steve? He can’t. And I think it’s starting to show.”

“You’re a psychologist now?” Darcy asked with an incredulous smile.

“I’m not licensed, but yes,” Sam replied with a toothy grin. “I joined the Guard to pay for school. I was going to grad school part-time and working at the VA when I met Steve.”

Darcy rolled her eyes. “Of _course_ you were.”

“So, what do you say? You willing to help one of your uncle’s old buddies out?”

Darcy sighed deeply and shook her head. “You know, I haven’t really seen how far my new security clearance can take me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: If you've read Skipping, you might have recognized some of Darcy's back story. The folks at Marvel haven't really filled that in for us yet, so I still had to make up my own.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I wrote chapters 4 and 5 at the same time, but there seemed to be a natural ending in there, so I split them up. Consequently, this chapter is a bit short, but I hope you'll enjoy it anyway. Thanks for reading!

Steve always did his own training after everyone had gone home or back to their quarters on the base. It wasn’t as though he was afraid of being judged, but he didn’t want to scare anyone. He could let loose on a punching bag in a way he never could on his teammates or even most of their enemies. And he really, _really_ needed to cut loose. The bag went flying across the room and Steve took several deep breaths, idly wondering why they didn’t have more durable equipment.

“Does it help?”

Steve whipped around, startle by Vision’s presence behind him. The android regarded him curiously with his head cocked to one side making him look like an oddly colored puppy.

“What?” Steve asked when he’d finally caught his breath.

“Hitting something so hard,” Vision explained. “Does it help?”

Steve shook his head, “Help with what?”

“I am not sure,” Vision replied. “Sometimes I detect high levels of epinephrine and adrenaline in you indicating heightened aggression or even anger. Other times, your serotonin seems remarkably low, as though you are deeply depressed.”

“You always running scans on us?” Steve asked, an undertone of flint in his voice.

Vision’s brow furrowed slightly. “It seems like a prudent thing to do to ensure everyone’s safety,” the android explained. “Would you prefer me to stop?”

Steve shook his head as he turned away, unwrapping his hands. “No. You’re probably right. The answer to your original question is no, by the way,” he told the android without bothering to turn around. “It can make you feel better for a little while, but then reality comes back around and you realize that there are just some things you can’t punch.”

“I don’t believe I understand,” Vision said as Steve put his things in his locker.

Steve chuckled in reply. “I don’t believe I do either, so you’re not that far behind. Just do me one favor, though?” he asked.

“Anything, Sir,” the android replied.

“Don’t sneak up on people in the middle of the night. It’s disconcerting,” Steve told him with a smile.

“Of course.”

Steve nodded and slapped the android on the shoulder assuringly as he left the gym. The base was quiet at night. The only sound he heard was that of his shoes squeaking against the polished floor, until a loud, female laugh reached his ears. He rounded the corner and saw Sam coming in with Darcy. She laughed until Sam, giggling himself, motioned for her to be quiet. She clapped a hand over her mouth until she regained her composure. Something twisted inside Steve as he watched Darcy kiss Sam on the cheek before heading down toward the living quarters.

“Hey!” Sam greeted, seeing Steve in the shadows at the end of the hall.

“Hey,” Steve replied, quickly crossing the hall to the communal kitchen. He was filling a glass from the tap when Sam came in and pulled a bottle of Gatorade from the refrigerator.

“What are you doing up so late?” Sam asked.

“I was just working out,” Steve replied looking down into his glass.

“Ah. I took Darcy out to Jones’ Place. I figured she could use a drink after the day she had.”

“That’s nice,” Steve replied quickly, taking a long drink of his water.

Sam raised an eyebrow at the shortness of Steve’s response. “It wasn’t like a date or anything,” he assured him. “I actually was in Basic with her uncle. I’m sure he’d come up with some very interesting ways to torture me if he found out I went on a date with his niece.”

“It doesn’t matter to me if it was a date,” Steve said, turning his back on his friend to needlessly refill his glass. “It’s not as if there are any rules against such things.”

“I wasn’t worried about breaking regulations,” Sam told him. “I just thought maybe you…”

Steve narrowed his gaze toward the other man. “You thought I’d what?”

“I thought maybe you wanted to ask her out.”

Steve barked a laugh. “You’re crazy.”

“Am I?”

“Sam, I’ve never had a conversation with the woman that didn’t end in an argument.”

“That’s not true. You had a conversation with her this morning that didn’t end in an argument.”

“Right, the argument moved to the middle. That’s not exactly progress.”

“Sorry. You just didn’t seem too terribly happy with the idea of me going out with her,” Sam said gently.

Steve shook his head. “It’s not that I’m jealous, I just…I don’t know what it is.” He set his glass down in the sink and walked past Sam toward the door.

“You ever ask out that nurse Natasha wanted you to?” Sam called after him.

Steve froze in the doorway as his fists balled up at his sides. He slowly turned to face the other man and said, “She wasn’t a nurse. She’s a spy; first for SHIELD, and now for the CIA. I have enough spies in my life. If I was even to consider a relationship with someone, I would want it to be with someone more forthright.”

“You do understand the irony of that statement, right?” Sam asked him.

“Excuse me?”

“You say you want someone who’ll be honest with you. And you don’t want to ask Darcy out because you always argue. The reason you always argue is because she doesn’t put a filter on anything she says to you,” Sam explained matter-of-factly.

Steve shook his head slowly and looked down at his shoes. “I just…I need you to drop it, Sam, please,” he said, his throat tight. “I don’t need someone else in my life, not like that, and, honestly, no one really deserves the trouble being with me would bring them.” He finally looked up at his friend and continued, “So, please, Sam, just drop it.”

Sam let out a defeated sigh as he watched the old man with his whole life before him walk away.


	6. Chapter 6

People went out and came into the New Avengers facility all the time—despite the fact that it was supposed to be less high profile than their last base—and, as she had quickly learned, it was actually Darcy’s job to coordinate all of that.  Scientists from U-Gin and JPL were constantly going in and out in addition to military personnel and ‘men-in-black’ who always seemed to have meetings with Maria Hill.  Darcy certainly did find it easy to share Sam’s suspicions of the woman.

In spite of all the glass and steel and modern amenities and well-educated people, some things just always seemed like high school. Darcy usually had to eat her lunch on the run, but she noticed that Wanda was sitting by herself every time she was in the commissary.  After about a week, Darcy had enough, and made a decision to actually eat in the commissary one afternoon.  She ignored Sam calling her over to what was probably the jock table and sat down across from Wanda Maximoff.

“So, my dad was in the military and I remember really, _really_ wanting to eat in the commissary when I was about five.  Major let down,” Darcy said, stuffing a piece of bread in her mouth. “This is a vast improvement.”

Wanda blinked at her.  “What are you doing?”

“I’m eating lunch with you.”

“Why?”

Darcy shrugged.  “I used to wear a lot of eye liner and Ramones t-shirts when I was in high school and when I see you sitting alone, I feel like I never escaped.”

“I don’t think I understand,” Wanda replied with squinting eyes and a slight hint of a smile.

“They just shouldn’t let you sit by yourself like some sort of outcast.  We’re all weirdos.  This place would be a flying circus if it weren’t half underground.”

Wanda giggled.  “Your name is Darcy, right?”

“And you’re Wanda.”

She nodded.  “It’s nice to meet you.”

“You too.”

* * *

 

“So, Steve loosened up any?” Clint asked Natasha from the comm. screen in her quarters.

“Nope,” she replied, transitioning seamlessly into her next pose.  “In fact, I think he may be getting worse.  He almost hit Sam in the face during training.  Would’ve probably crushed his pretty face if Wanda hadn’t magicked them apart.  I’m guessing he heard about Foster’s newest speech.”

“I heard she’s been in contact with leaders of the EU about passing some laws.”

“And we all know how effective the EU is as a governmental body.”

Clint chuckled and looked back down at the wooden figure in his hand.  “You know if he’s talked to Darcy any more?”

“No, Clint, your evil plan is not working.”

“It’s not really a plan and it’s certainly not evil. I, for one, think they would actually be good together.”

Natasha slowly stood upright and faced the screen directly with her hands on her hips.  “I don’t disagree with you.”

“Then why aren’t you helping?”

Natasha sighed.  “Sam told me about a conversation he had with Steve recently,” she began.  “Steve said that no one deserved the trouble a relationship with him would bring.”

“Geez.  I thought self-loathing was Banner’s thing.” 

Natasha visibly flinched and Clint quickly added, “Sorry.”

“It’s okay.  I’ve handled worse.  The point is, you can’t force something to happen when someone feels that way,” she explained.  “He’ll just keep receding into himself.”

“You don’t have to _force_ her on him…”

“Well, what do you suggest?” Natasha asked, folding her arms across her chest.

“I don’t know.  _Firefly_ marathon?”

Natasha quirked an eyebrow.  “What?  You think they’ll be having a sing-along by the time they get to ‘Jaynestown?’”

“You have to take video if that actually happens.”

“Goodbye, Clint.”

“Bye, Nat.”

* * *

 

Darcy was well and truly exhausted by the end of her first week.  She was also going cross-eyed from looking at old SHIELD files.  It was a little startling how much she had access to. She found footage from New Mexico when Thor single-handedly tried and failed to get Mjolnir back. Considering that he was just a ‘regular’ human at the time, he still managed to tear through an entire base of SHIELD agents.  There was also mud wrestling.  Darcy enjoyed the mud wrestling more than she probably should have.

Despite her tiredness, however, no fewer than five people had told her she should have some sort of fitness and self-defense training.  She’d responded with scowling until Wanda made a comment about it, assuring her that it wasn’t about her looks, but about the fact that disaster might strike at any moment and everyone had to be ready for anything.  That was how Darcy found herself in the gym on Friday night.

A firm believer in YouTube University, she called up some videos on boxing—because all forms of hand-to-hand started with boxing, right?—and set her tablet up haphazardly on a stool near one of the bags. She wrapped her hands as the first video instructed and started throwing her arms at the punching bag the way the UFC lady told her to.  Less than ten minutes later, she felt like her arms were about to fall off.

“What are you doing?”

Darcy jumped and squealed in an undignified manner and turned to see Steve Rogers standing in the doorway with his arms folded across his chest and his eyebrows arched upward.  She bit her lip and hid her hands behind her back as though she’d done something wrong, though she couldn’t understand why she felt that way. Maybe Steve just had that effect on people.

“I, um, I…people keep telling me I should work out and learn to defend myself because my usual method to tasing people and hitting them with cars may not always be a viable option,” she explained.

“And what’s this?” he asked, motioning to the tablet.

“You can learn to do anything on YouTube,” she replied weakly.

“Well, this is not one of those things,” he told her, turning off the tablet and pushing the stool away.  “Can I see your hands?”

She held out her hands to him and he smirked and shook his head.  He took her right hand in his and started unwrapping it.  “This is too much,” he told her.  “You want to give yourself a layer of protection, not make a glove out of it.  You can’t even really make a fist without straining the muscles in your hands and arms. You already feel it, don’t you?”

“Yeah,” Darcy admitted.

“You really only want a thin layer of protection,” he told her as he started to re-wrap her hands.

“I don’t have any gloves.”

“That’s okay.  Just knowing how to throw a punch will keep you from getting hurt.”

“And who’s going to teach me to throw a punch? You?” Darcy asked, sounding more snide than she actually intended.

“Well, I don’t see anyone else around here, do you?” he replied as he finished wrapping her hands.  “I assume you know how to make a fist.”

“My mother told me I did nothing else with my hands for the first six months of my life,” Darcy replied, putting her fists up as though she was about to fight him.

Steve’s brow furrowed slightly.  “You left handed?”

Darcy squinted at the odd question.  “No…”

“Then put your right behind your left, not the other way around,” Steve told her, taking her wrists in his hands and moving them into the proper position.  He maneuvered her to face the bag and used his foot to separate her feet and spread her legs apart into a stable stance.  As her body was contorted awkwardly, he placed his hand on her hip to guide her. She gasped and jumped instinctively at the sudden intimate contact.

“Sorry,” he said, immediately removing his hand.

“No, it’s okay,” she told him.  “I just didn’t expect Captain America to be so handsy.”

Steve grimaced.  “I’m not trying to be Captain America right now, and I’m certainly not trying to be handsy,” he told her, backing away slightly.  “I just wanted to help.”

“Don’t,” Darcy said, turning around and grabbing his wrist.  “I want your help.  I want your help, I do, I just…deflect from awkward situations with even more awkward humor.  It’s a thing.”

The hint of a smile passed Steve’s lips.  “Alright, then,” he said, stepping in close behind her and taking her wrists in his hands.

On some level, Darcy had always known he was a good foot taller than her, but it was screaming into her consciousness with his shoulders curved into her back.  He smelled like sandalwood and cut grass and something pleasantly male.  Darcy suddenly hoped he couldn’t feel her skin prickling at his touch.

“Relax,” he said into her ear.

“Yeah, working on it,” she replied tightly.

He moved his hands back to her upper arms. “Keep your wrists straight and throw a punch with your whole body, not just your arms.  Like this,” he said, moving with her, using his torso to guide hers into a simple one-two combination.  He stepped back and said, “Now you do it…but faster.”

Darcy could immediately feel the difference.  The bag even actually moved a little bit.  She no longer felt like her arms were limp noodles, but she also felt her heart beating rapidly and her entire body tiring out much more quickly.  Steve moved to stand behind the bag and watched her for a few moments before saying, “Did no one ever teach you this?”

“Why would they have?” Darcy asked between punches.

“Well, you have a military family.”

“How do you know that?” she asked, stopping her routine as her brows knit together.

“I know how to use Google,” Steve replied cautiously, “and Sam told me.”

“Oh,” Darcy said, her confrontational expression fading as she took her stance back up.  “Well, I—ow!”

She stumbled from the sudden, misplaced impact, and Steve swiftly moved around the bag and grabbed her left arm and right hip, steadying her in place.  “That’s why you keep your wrists straight,” he told her as he started to unwrap her left hand.

She watched in silence, unsure of what to say next.  She focused on the pain in her left hand so intently that she almost didn’t hear him when he said, “I’m sorry.  I shouldn’t have pried.”

She shook her head slightly and said, “It’s okay, really.  Uncle Max is only about ten years older than me and he was deployed a lot while I was a teenager, and my father, well, he checked out way before that.  You see, my mom was diagnosed with ovarian cancer when she was pregnant with my brother.  She refused to get treatment until after she had him because she knew how much my dad wanted a son.  Most husbands in that situation would become super supportive to the point of being annoying, but my dad just sort of checked out emotionally and physically.  She wasted away for almost two years, and he was late to her funeral.  I don’t even think I need both hands to count the number of days I’ve seen him since I was nine.”

She finally looked up and saw Steve staring down at her with wide eyes and a slightly open mouth bearing an expression that wasn’t precisely sadness or pity; he really almost looked angry.  She was keenly aware of the feel of his fingertips on her knuckles as he quietly said, “I am so sorry.”

“It’s okay,” she assured him with a smile.  “My Gran, who is just the most awesome ex-hippie in the world, raised us, and I’ve had a pretty amazing life.  Don’t feel sorry for me.”

Steve nodded and smiled slightly.  “I think it’s okay,” he said, finally releasing her hand.  “You should put some ice on it.  If it’s still bothering you in the morning, you should probably get it checked out.”

“Thanks,” Darcy said, wriggling her fingers experimentally before gathering her things.  “You know, I think this is the longest we’ve gone without sniping at each other.”

Steve looked down at his feet.  “Sorry about that, but maybe we’ve finally found some common ground,” he said, looking back up at her with a small smile.

Darcy returned his expression and said, “Yeah.  Maybe.”

* * *

 

“My God, how are you even awake at this hour?”

Steve looked up from the omelet he was making as Sam trudged into the communal kitchen and raised an eyebrow.  “Well, _you’re_ awake at this hour,” he replied.

“Not by choice,” Sam said, taking the orange juice out of the refrigerator and shaking it.  “I’m doing some work with the VA this weekend.  I gotta be in DC in a couple of hours.  Why are you awake at 5 am?  Have you even been to bed?”

“Yes, mother, I have,” Steve replied, rolling his eyes as he plated his breakfast and grabbed his cup of coffee.  “Are you really drinking that straight out of the bottle?”

“It’s mine.  It has my name on it.  If anyone else has been drinking it, that’s their problem.”

“That’s a mature attitude,” Steve said, joining Sam at the table.

“Yes, Mom, it is,” Sam agreed sarcastically as he took a deep drink from the bottle.  “Since you’re eating I know you already went for your run.  So what are you doing up so early?”

“Couldn’t sleep,” Steve answered shortly, taking a bite of his omelet.

“That’s becoming a bit commonplace with you.”

Steve ignored his judgmental overtones and said, “I talked to Darcy last night.”

“Really?” Sam asked before taking another drink.

“Yeah, she was in the gym attempting to box.  It was a little sad,” Steve said quickly before stuffing another portion of omelet into his mouth.

Sam nodded.  “Boxing, huh?  Well, that’s _some_ common ground.”

Steve dropped his fork on his plate and shook his head.  “She had to watch her mother die; slowly.  She was younger than I was.  That’s common ground I wouldn’t wish on anyone.”

“I’m sorry, Steve.  I knew her mother had passed, I didn’t know it was like that.”

Steve shook his head and slowly sat back in his chair.  “It’s okay, Sam.  What do you know about her father?”

“Colonel David Lewis?  He’s a stereotypical, emotionally unavailable, career military hard ass.  Or at least that’s what he is according to his brother.  I’ve only ever shook the man's hand myself,” Sam explained.  “I do know he basically saved Max from getting thrown out of the service before we even got out of Basic.”

“How’s that?”

“Well,” Sam began, shifting uncomfortably in his seat, “Max, Riley, and I were trying to blow off some steam playing a prank and some government property may or may not have been destroyed.  Max fell on his sword for all three of us, but his brother intervened.  Max went on to run a fire crew for the Guard and runs a station house in civilian life.  I don’t think it makes up for leaving your mother and kid brother to raise your children, but he’s at least done one good thing.”

“Yeah, I guess,” Steve agreed, staring grimly at his half eaten breakfast.

 

* * *

 

The problem with living in secret compound in the middle-of-nowhere New York was that there was very little to do on the weekends.  Darcy was, therefore, at her desk on Saturday morning looking through old SHIELD files for Sam.  She was wearing yoga pants and one of her uncle’s old Air Guard sweatshirts and no shoes; that was her concession to the weekend.

Her mouth opened and her coffee dribbled out when she saw it.  Blindly, she grabbed her phone and found Sam’s number.

“Hey, Darcy, I’m on my way to DC.  What’s up?”

“I think I’ve found some leverage on Agent Hill.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: This took a while because I've been studying for the GRE for the last few weeks. But now that the thought of the quantitative reasoning section puts me in tears, I have decided to ease my pain by writing. FYI, all I know about boxing I've learned from television and the occasional Rocky film. Thanks for reading!


	7. Chapter 7

“Hello, Agent Hill.”

Maria Hill leaned against the doorframe of her private office with a grin and said, “That’s only an intimidating thing to do if you’re Marlon Brando.”

“I’m not intimidating you,” Darcy said, leaning back in the other woman’s chair.  “I’d never be capable of that.  I’m blackmailing you.”

“Oh?  You think you’re capable of blackmailing me?” Hill asked, stepping further into her office.

“I do today,” Darcy replied with a smile.

“What do you want, Lewis?” Hill asked, her jovial demeanor fading suddenly.

“I want to know about Coulson.”

“Agent Phil Coulson is dead.”

Darcy shrugged.  “I don’t know.  Maybe he _is_ , but he certainly wasn’t after he was supposed to be.”

“What the hell are you—”  The word’s died in Hill’s throat as Darcy held up her tablet displaying footage from the aftermath of the Convergence in London. In the center was a man in a dark suit that couldn’t be mistaken by anyone who knew him.

“Before you go thinking that I’ve turned into some badass hacker, this was actually available with my very own access,” Darcy said, grinning up at the other woman.  “Whatever algorithm you use to generate those sorts of things must have taken into account the fact that I was actually there when the event occurred and didn’t see the harm in letting me see the aftermath.  You know, the aftermath the crew of SHIELD 6-1-6 helped clean up?”

“What do you want?” Hill said shutting the door.

“A helicarrier is pretty hard to hide unless you have some sort of network and extensive experience,” Darcy said.  “I’m guessing good old Son of Coul here survived Hydra and is now running some version of SHIELD that’s been providing _you_ with intel since well before Ultron.”

“I’m still not hearing any demands.”

“I want to be able to talk to him and his people unimpeded.”

“Why?”

“It seems like a prudent thing to do as all of our primary objectives are to protect the planet and the people living on it, and I’m the coordinator or whatever I am.”

Hill raised an eyebrow and folded her arms across her chest. “I really don’t believe you.”

“Well, that’s fine,” Darcy said, standing from behind the desk and taking her tablet with her.  “Nobody’s believed anything you’ve said for a while. You kind of burned your bridge with Stark by continuing to take orders from Fury.  What do you think Captain America is going to think when he finds out you’ve lied to him about Coulson not being dead?”

“Are you going to be the one to tell him?” Hill asked tauntingly. “From what I’ve heard, you’re not really the best of friends, and you’ve been making nice with the Maximoff girl, which I doubt will earn you much trust in the long run.”

Darcy scowled.  “You’re probably right.  He has no reason to trust me, really.  But I bet he’d believe his good buddy, Sam,” she said, turning the tablet around so Hill could see the image of the man in question waving at her.

“Agent Hill.”

“Wilson,” she replied through gritted teeth.

“We’d like to talk to Agent Coulson,” Sam told her.

“We?  What are you two up to?”

“Hey, we’ll let you keep most of your secrets and you’ll let us keep ours,” Darcy said.  “I’d like coordinates to wherever Coulson is, please.”

Hill rolled her eyes and moved around Darcy toward her desk. “You realize if I thought you were actually a threat that you’d never get this information and probably would never be heard from again?”

“Of course.  I’m not stupid, and despite Sam’s unfortunate association with my uncle, I’m pretty sure he’s not either.”

“I can still hear you,” Sam said from the tablet in her hands.

“Oh, I know.”

“How dangerous is whatever you two are doing?”

“It’s not.”

“Not at all,” Sam and Darcy said consecutively.

“Well, you two aren’t unconvincing at all,” Hill said sarcastically with a furrowed brow.  “Try not to get yourselves killed.  When should I tell Coulson to expect you?”

“Monday.  Ten-ish. And I’m only giving advanced warning so we don’t get shot.”

“Duly noted.”

* * *

 

“Do you have a death wish?!”

Steve always heard those words in Bucky’s voice.  Bucky had asked the question many times while they were growing up.  Steve had this tendency to get into situations with men two or three times his size.  It’s not as though he was actively trying to pick a fight, or at least that’s what he told himself at the time.  Maybe Bucky was right.  Maybe Steve actually did like getting hit.  It let him know he was alive; let him know he could still fight.

If Bucky knew how fast Steve was going on his motorcycle, he would certainly be asking him about a death wish.  Steve, however recently found himself unable to ride any slower.  It was as if he always had to be riding at combat speeds or else he’d lose control and fall down.  He was sure Sam would have something to say about that.

There was rarely any traffic on the sections of back roads he traversed.  He didn’t see the truck until it was almost too late.  He swerved, but the violent change in direction wrenched the bike from his control.  He let go and leapt free as the motorcycle skidded sideways across the asphalt.  He landed on his right foot before catching himself on the palms of his hands.  His momentum kept him rolling, however, until his ribcage met with a rock on the side of the road.  A deafening buzz filled his ears and he could barely hear a male voice calling out to him, “Hey, buddy, you okay?”

Everything snapped back into focus when he looked up at the man kneeling next to him.  Steve’s hands felt like they were on fire, every breath scorched his lungs, and his ankle was already throbbing.  He groaned as he pushed himself into a sitting position.  The truck he’d almost hit was on the other side of the road, it’s driver’s side door standing open.  Presumably, the man kneeling in front of him was its driver.  He was probably about Steve’s age—physically, not actually—with sharp brown eyes and close-cropped dark.  The worn baseball cap and flannel shirt told Steve he was probably a local.

“I, uh, I don’t hear my bike.  It it…?”

“It was still running,” the man answered with an assuring smile.  “I just got the keys for you.”

“Thanks,” Steve said, gingerly taking the keys from the other man.  He struggled to his feet and reluctantly took the man’s arm for assistance. 

“I’m really sorry about all this,” the man said.

“It’s not your fault,” Steve assured him, picking his bike up off the ground as his hands screamed in protest. 

“You know, maybe you should consider wearing a helmet if you’re going to be riding that fast.”

“I know my own limits,” Steve said, glaring over his shoulder at the man.

“Really?” the man asked, not backing down.

“You don’t want to test me, son.”

“Sorry,” the other man said, holding his hands up in a placating motion.  “I just thought Captain America dying in a motorcycle accident would only be good as a public service announcement.”

Steve flinched at the mention of his alter ego and involuntarily felt his cheeks reddening in embarrassment.

“I, uh, recognized you from the news,” the man continued. “I’m glad you’re okay. I’d hate to think I killed a legend.”

“I’m not a legend,” Steve told him coldly.

“Of course not.  I’m sorry, Sir.”

Steve sighed and shook his head.  “No, I’m sorry, kid.  What was your name?”

“Brad.  Brad Hanson.”

“Thanks for your help, Brad,” he said, getting back on the bike.  “Maybe I’ll see you around.”

Brad smiled.  “My sister would sure enjoy that.”

Steve shook his head ruefully before he started the bike and sped away.

* * *

 

Darcy tried not to have a philosophy on the randomness of life.  If you think about things too much, you might miss enjoying the moment you’re already in.  That was her grandmother’s philosophy, anyway, and it had served Darcy pretty well.  She didn’t really think about the long-term consequences of taking an internship with Jane Foster, and she got to see an actual god without a shirt on.  She kept interning because it seemed like Jane needed her, and it afforded her the opportunity to travel all around Europe and see things a lot of people only dream of seeing.  Thinking too much about the future never seemed to be as advantageous as just rolling with it was to Darcy.  Just rolling with it was how she wound up in a club in Westchester—it was the only club in Westchester—in a red, strapless, peplum dress that showed off her cleavage and barely covered her backside, strappy black heels, and more make up than she’d worn in months, possibly years.

She invited Wanda on a shopping excursion just to get off the base; it sort of felt like a tomb on the weekends.  After spending a couple of hours convincing Wanda to buy clothes in colors other than red and black, they hit up the food court—for the ‘authentic American experience’—where two strapping frat boys invited them to the club that evening.  Darcy noncommittally brushed them off as Wanda seemed to shrink further into her shell at their presence.  When Wanda confessed to never having been to a club, or a disco, as she called it, and Darcy decided it was something they absolutely must do.

Clubbing had never really been Darcy’s favorite activity.  She preferred dive bars where the people were more interesting or the sort of place where you could get a great latte with your whiskey sour.  Clubs were generally too hot, too crowded, and too vapid, but you often didn’t notice that after the second vodka cranberry.  Wanda hadn’t even finished her first before a guy was asking her to dance.

“I, um, I…no,” Wanda awkwardly told the square-jawed young man.

“It’s okay,” he replied with an extra white smile.  “Find me if you change your mind.”

Darcy raised an eyebrow as Wanda looked down into her drink.  “Why wouldn’t you dance with him?  He’s gorgeous,” Darcy said, loud enough to be heard over the pounding baseline.

“I’ve never really done this sort of dancing before,” Wanda told her.  “I don’t want to make a fool of myself.”

“You _won’t_ make a fool of yourself!  Look at these people.  This isn’t even really dancing.  It’s more like awkward gyrating,” Darcy told her.  “And that guy is not a terrible toolbag.  He didn’t pressure you after you said no, and he actually went back to his bros instead of moving on to the next girl.  He wants to dance with _you_.  Go for it!”

“Alright,” Wanda said before emptying her glass and rolling her shoulders back.

Darcy watched, grinning, as the other woman marched over to the group of men and tapped the square-jawed one on the shoulder.  He smiled at the sight of her and followed her out to the dance floor with his bros cat-calling after him.  Darcy had to say she enjoyed watching Wanda be a member of the human race.  People generally avoided her on the base because they were under the impression she would use her powers to control them, or something.  Darcy wasn’t sure she could live with the loneliness she’d seen Wanda deal with on a daily basis.

The night went on and Darcy danced with a couple of guys herself and nearly fell over laughing while teaching Wanda the Hustle.  Wanda danced with a couple of other men, but spent most of the night with Devin, the first guy that approached her.

It was nearing midnight and Darcy was sipping her water—because she was driving—when a broad shouldered man came up behind her and said in her ear, “Hey, baby, wanna dance.”

Darcy gently pushed him away and said, “Wow. Does that line actually still work?”

The guy shrugged and said, “On girls like you, it usually does.”

She glared up at him and folded her arms across her chest.  “Girls like me?”

“Yeah.  You know, the ones who’d rather just go straight to fucking you in the bathroom than dancing anyway.”

Darcy’s eyes widened momentarily before she returned his wicked smile and said, “You know what?  I would probably let you fuck me against the wall…if you were Captain America.”

The guy took a step closer to her and said, “How do you know I’m not?”

“I’ve seen gods without their shirts on,” she told him before balling up her fist and throwing a punch at the guy’s face the way Steve had shown her.  Her smile widened as he immediately fell to the floor.  “You are _so_ not Captain America.”

Two of the guy’s friends suddenly appeared and pulled him up off the floor.

“Sorry, he’s had a lot to drink,” one of the guys excused.

“Crazy bitch,” the stumbling one muttered.

“That’s right.  I’m the crazy bitch that beat you up,” Darcy called after them as they dragged him away.

“Darcy, are you alright?” Wanda said, coming up to the table.

“It’s fine.  I’ve met assholes before,” she said, cooling her sore knuckles on her glass.  “What’s up?”

“Devin, he, uh, asked me to go home with him,” Wanda explained reluctantly.

“Oh.  Well, he seems like a nice guy, but—”

“He told me this to give this to you so you’d know where I was.”

Darcy took the business card Wanda handed her and discovered Devin Michaels was a financial advisor for a swanky firm in Manhattan and a local address was written on the back.  The ink was slightly smeared from where Wanda had been holding it.

“Well, if he’s a serial killer, he’s being very conscientious about it,” Darcy said. “Devin seems like possibly the most polite club hook-up you could ever find, so I say go for it if it’s what you want.”

“Darcy, I, um, well, I’ve never actually...um…”

Darcy’s brow knit together in momentary confusion before realization dawned. “Oh!  _Oh_! Well—”

“Hey, Wanda,” Devin said, walking up to them.  “Are you okay to go, or…”

“Actually,” Darcy interrupted, “my parents were really looking forward to meeting Wanda at church tomorrow, so we should really probably be going.”

Devin’s shoulders visibly sank as his face fell.  He looked at Wanda and said, “Can’t say I’m not disappointed. Keep the card, and maybe give me a call sometime.  I come into town every few weeks to see my sister and the guys, so maybe I’ll see you again?”

Wanda nodded gingerly.  “Maybe.”

Devin kissed her on the cheek before he walked away.  Darcy grinned as Wanda blushed.

“Come on.  We should get out of here before you break anymore hearts and I break my knuckles.”

After a few minutes in the car, Darcy said, “So…just so I know I didn’t misunderstand, you were trying to tell me you’ve never had sex, right?”

Wanda shifted uncomfortably in her seat.  “I…no, I haven’t.”

“Well, don’t be embarrassed about it.  It’s just another state of being,” Darcy told her, watching her out of the corner of her eye and secretly hoping Wanda had never watched _Firefly_.

“I’m not ashamed,” Wanda said, pulling a thread on the hem of her dress. “It’s just a little…I almost did once. Pietro and I were so hungry, and I knew girls who did it for money, and…Pietro stopped me; pulled me from a man’s car. He always looked out for me.”

Darcy felt an oppressive silence fill the car.  Somehow, saying that Pietro was still looking out for her seemed wrong.

“It’s alright if you don’t know what to say,” Wanda assured her. “I don’t really know either. I miss him, but…I have to go on alone.”

“Well, that’s where you’re wrong,” Darcy replied.  “Clearly, you’re not alone.”

Wanda shook her head.  “They don’t trust me, and I don’t blame them.”

“Yo, I was talking about _me_ , not Natasha and the ultimate boys club.”

Wanda laughed heartily.  “Thank you for today.”

“Anytime, but let’s not make this a weekly thing.  I don’t think I can deal with drunks at the club every week. Seriously, you lucked out with Devin.”

Wanda shrugged.  “Did you actually punch a man out, or did I imagine that?”

“I knocked him down.  I wouldn’t say I knocked him out.  He was a major asshole.”  After a brief pause, she added, “I think I may have a crush on Captain America.”

Wanda quirked an eyebrow.  “I don’t see how those sentences are related.”

“Well, the guy I punched said that I looked like the sort of girl who’d rather have sex with him than dance with him.”

“Glad you punched him.”

“Yeah, well, before I did, I quipped that I’d let him fuck me against the wall if he was Captain America.”  Darcy saw Wanda’s eyebrows shoot up from the corner of her eye and continued, “It wouldn’t be quite so strange if I didn’t actually _know_ Captain America, and I guess it was some sort of Freudian slip something because I’ve certainly never consciously thought about…you know?  Besides, I seriously doubt he’s the against-the-wall type, and, you know what?  He’s probably into leggy blondes with 2% body fat and super spy skills and—”

“I don’t think so.”

“I’m sorry.  You interrupted me mid-ramble.  What part of that are you doubting?”

“I caught a glimpse of a woman in his mind when I, well, you know.  She had dark hair, dark eyes, full lips.  She wasn’t overweight, but neither was she very thin.  She was tall, but overall, she wasn’t that dissimilar from you, so don’t count yourself out on appearances alone.”

“I-I don’t really want to count myself in.  I mean, he’s hot, obviously, but we can barely have a conversation, well, except for the other night, and…it was kind of…nice.”

Wanda smirked.  “I don’t need to read you to know that you _do_ like him.”

Darcy’s face contorted distastefully.  “Shut up.”

Wanda giggled as they drove underneath the base into the garage.  “Vision!” she called out to the pacing figure as she got out of the car.  “Why are you lurking down here?”

The android turned to look at them and tilted his head slightly.  “I do not require sleep, so I walk the open rooms of this compound.  I would not call it lurking,” he explained.  “May I inquire as to the reason for your attire.”

“To bring all the boys to the yard,” Darcy said with a smile.  At the blank expressions of the others, she explained, “It’s from a song.  I should really try to know my audience better.  Anyway, we were out enjoying life.  You should come with us next time.”

If Vision had eyebrows, they would have knit together at her suggestion.  “I do not believe I would blend in.”

Darcy shrugged.  “We could go into Manhattan.  If anyone actually noticed, they still wouldn’t say anything.”

“Yes, you should come with AH!” Wanda screeched as she started to teeter off her shoes.  Vision ably steadied her as she swore in her native tongue and kicked off her shoes.

“Obviously, you need more practice in the art of mixing vodka with late hours and high heels,” Darcy told her.

Wanda stuck her tongue out at the other woman before saying, “And how are you so steady?”

“A: I didn’t drink, and B: I used to work for an astrophysicist whose field of study literally required her to be up all night long.  I am immune to late hours,” she explained.  “You should just go on to bed.  You can always get your stuff in the morning.”

“I can escort you to your room if you would like,” Vision offered to Wanda.

“Thank you, very much,” she replied with a smile.

“And they say chivalry is dead,” Darcy commented.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the motorcycle Steve always rode.  The paint was severely scratched and the body was dented.  One of the wheels had already been removed due to it being slightly misshapen.  “Vision,” she called out, stopping them before they reached the door, “what happened to the captain’s bike?”

“I am unsure,” Vision replied.

“Is-is Steve okay?” she asked.

“He was fully functional when last I saw him in the gymnasium not ten minutes ago,” Vision told her.

Darcy’s eyebrows shot up.  “He’s in the gym?  It’s one o’clock in the morning.”

“The captain often does not seem to require sleep either,” Vision said flatly.

Darcy stared at the wrecked bike and something akin to anger and disappointment twisted in her gut.  Her hands fisted at her sides and she marched out of the room past Vision and Wanda.

Wanda bit her lip to stifle a giggle.  Vision cocked his head slightly and said, “Why do you smile so?”

“She likes him,” Wanda replied, “but sssshhhh.  It’s a secret.  Even from her.”

* * *

 

Steve was in new and unexplored amounts of pain.  He did heal quickly, but the hours he had spent in front of the punching bag weren’t speeding on the process.  Someone had reinforced the apparatus and now it wasn’t flying away from him, so he just kept pounding.  Blood started to soak the wraps from the scrapes on his hands.  His ankle, though he had wrapped it, protested the constant torsion.  His lungs burned from the labor and bruising on his ribcage, but still he kept pounding.  The more he pounded, the more he felt.

It was getting worse.  It almost felt like shame, though he hadn’t done anything really wrong.  But something wasn’t right.  He could feel it eating away at him.  Ultron was an insane, genocidal mistake, but he wasn’t wrong about Steve, and that truly disturbed him.  Wanda had shown them all their greatest fears, and his was a party at the end of the War.  What sort of man did that make him?  Erskine wanted him to always be a good man.  Didn’t good men know how to stop fighting?

“Hey,” Darcy’s voice sounded with the accompanying sound of heels clicking across the floor.  “What are you doing?  It’s one o’clock in the morning.”

He hit the bag one last time and started to turn around.  “I could ask you the same…”  His voice died in his throat.  She was wearing red.

Darcy smirked.  “Does my dress offend your sensibilities?”

Steve rolled his eyes.  “I’ve seen shorter skirts.”  It was true. The girls on the tour wore shorter skirts, though not by much.   “Where were you that you needed to be wearing…that?”

“Well, I took Wanda shopping to get her out of the house, so to speak, and we just kept doing things until we wound up at a club in Westchester,” Darcy explained.  “I had to punch a guy in the face, but other than that, it was fun.  You still haven’t answered my question.”

Steve’s brow furrowed.   “Why did you have to punch a guy in the face?”

“He was being an asshole,” she replied, crossing the room to stand in front of him.  “That’s still not an answer to my question.”

He stared down at her and said, “I like to work out alone.  And I don’t need much sleep.”

She chuckled.  “You know, every time you say that, I believe you a little less.”

“Why are you here?” he asked, his voice almost lowering to a growl.

“I saw your bike in the garage,” she told him, not shrinking from his icy gaze.  “What happened?”

“I fell off.  I’m fine,” he replied flatly.

Darcy smiled sweetly.  “Really?” she asked, striking at his ribcage with the heel of her palm. 

He gasped at the sudden pain in his side and she took advantage of his momentary distraction to grab his wrist and push up the sleeve of his hoodie, revealing the cuts and bruises beneath.

“Jesus,” she hissed.  “Do you have a death wish?”

Steve wanted to be angry.  He wanted to jerk his hand out of Darcy’s grasp and yell at her to mind her own business.  But her words just reverberated in his mind, words he’d heard so often.  They froze the anger right out of him and left him with a dull ache in the pit of his stomach.  He stared down at his hand in hers and said, “I-I don’t know.  I just…don’t think I have a life wish anymore.”

He finally dared to look up into her eyes and found them wide and rimmed with tears.  He started to look away when she wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him into a tight hug.  Ignoring the pain in his side, he said, “What-what are you doing?”

“Hugging someone gives you an endorphin rush, and you definitely need an endorphin rush,” she told him.  “I’m not sure it works unless you hug me back, though.”

Steve let out a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding and wrapped his arms around her waist, temporarily forgetting about the pain in his side as he breathed in the crisp scent of her shampoo. 

She loosened her grip on his neck and took his face in her hands as she looked up into his eyes.  Barely above a whisper, she said, “You can’t protect the world unless you’re willing to live in it.”

Her words resonated in the void in the pit of his stomach and started to fill him with something.  Hope, maybe? He found himself staring at her lips. He couldn’t tell if her hands were gently pulling him in or if he was just drawn to her like a magnet. He could feel her breath on his lips.

Then the lights went out.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry this one took a while. It's been an interesting few weeks at work and in life. I did well on the GRE in case anyone is interested ;-) Anyway, on the bright side, this update was really long. On the not so bright side, I left it on a massive cliff hanger. I'll give you a hint, though: one of the very nice young men we met in this chapter is not so nice, and is actually an MCU fixture, not an OC. I'll let you wonder which one. If you don't watch AoS, the upcoming chapters may be a little confusing. If you do watch AoS, please note that I will be just completely ignoring the last 10 seconds or so of the finale. My reaction to that was something along the lines of: "I literally can't even..." Anyway, thanks for reading!


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There are no excuses. Not really. Thanks for reading anyway.

Darcy was shivering.  She supposed it was shock, or something.  She bit her lip and attempted to piece together the events that must have taken only fifteen minutes at most, though it might have been a thousand years for how it all felt.  She flatly refused to stay in the pitch dark gym, and Steve had handed her a Taser with a remark about how she knew how to use one.  Darcy vaguely wondered how he knew that.  She didn’t really remember the details or creeping out in the corridor, only that she had a desperate urge to grasp onto his shirt that she was pushing down at all times.  She didn’t see the man until his neck was wedged between Steve’s bicep and forearm.  She couldn’t move again until Steve somewhat roughly grabbed her hand and pulled her along behind him.  Then the power and the lights came on in a blinding fashion and he was just there, black against the stark, white walls and Darcy instinctively pulled the trigger.  The prongs reached their mark on his chest, but he merely chuckled and pulled them out of the body armor he wore.

Panic started to rise up in the back of Darcy’s throat.  She knew that angular face and dark eyes.  She’d avoided watching the footage, but she’d read the reports.  Grant Ward was a dangerous man, and he was standing less than twenty feet from her with an unnerving, practiced calm.

“You,” Steve said, his voice thick in his throat as he pushed Darcy behind him and aimed his handgun at the other man.

Darcy had a hard time imagining a point where Grant Ward’s smile looked more attractive than sinister.

“Yes, Captain.  Me.  Clearly your strengths don’t lie in reading people, or even checking up on the people you do know,” Ward said.

Darcy cringed and felt Steve stiffen next to her.  Guilt threatened to wrap its icy fingers around her rapidly beating heart, though her brain hadn’t caught up to why any of this was happening.

“What did you hope to accomplish in coming here?” Steve said, his voice not betraying the tension in his body.

“I’ve accomplished everything I set out to,” Ward replied serenely.

“Really?” an accented voice said from behind him shortly before a burst of red energy hit Ward squarely in the back sending him skidding face-first toward Darcy and Steve.

That was when things really became muddled.  Darcy wasn’t sure when she screamed, or even if it was out loud.  She couldn’t even remember whether or not she saw the knife before it plunged between Wanda’s ribs.  She definitely remembered the sound of the shot Steve fired and the sight of it ripping through the skull of Wanda’s assailant. She remembered the sound of Ward laughing as she made her way to her friend only to be thrown against a pillar by errant blasts of red energy emanating from Wanda’s body.  She remembered the feeling of having no air in her lungs and feeling a pain so great that it almost didn’t hurt at all.  She saw Steve crawling toward Wanda and wondered what could have knocked him off his feet.

He reached out and grabbed her hand and said, “You’re gonna be all right, Wanda.  Just—just calm down.  You control it.  It doesn’t control you.”

Wanda turned her head and locked eyes with the captain as heavy boot steps approached and the bursts of energy stopped.

Darcy wasn’t entirely sure how she got to the infirmary.  She just replayed the last few minutes on a loop until she felt something large and warm wrap around her shoulders.  She looked down and saw that it was Steve’s hoodie and that his hands her still gently grasping her shoulders.  She looked up into his blue eyes, filled with concern.  It occurred to her that she’d just seen this man kill someone, and she still had the overwhelming urge to kiss him.  She was certain that had been what nearly happened before the nightmare had started.  She didn’t understand it.  They had almost nothing in common.  They’d barely even had more than a single, civil conversation.  But she felt drawn to him.  Maybe her time entangled with Jane and Thor had made danger seem attractive.  Maybe a dark part of her had always craved danger.  Maybe it was just the adrenaline coursing through her veins.

“Darcy!”

She jumped.  Lost in her thoughts, she hadn’t realized he’d been speaking to her.

“You need to be checked out,” he told her gently.  “You’re in shock, and you might even have some busted ribs.”

"I'm fine," she said, pulling away from him and ignoring the difficulty she was having drawing breath. "I just shouldn't be running around in a short skirt and no shoes."

"You're not fine, Darcy," he said, reaching out to her.

"How did you know Ward?" she asked suddenly as the question bounced into her brain.

Steve withdrew his hand as though she'd bitten it. His gaze toward her narrowed as he asked, "How do know his name?"

Darcy flinched as her mind, still somewhat numb, raced for an explanation. "I, uh, get bored and look through the old SHIELD records sometimes. He was a SHIELD agent, a good one, but he was...he was Hydra."

Steve took a step closer to her and Darcy found herself unable to look anywhere but his chest.

"Why are you lying to me?"

She could hear the razor’s edge in his voice and wrapped her arms tightly around herself as she summoned all of her courage to look up at him and repeat, “How do you know him?”

Steve stepped back, a storm still brewing in his eyes.  “I saw him today on the…road…”

She watched as one anger replaced another in his face and he suddenly turned toward the door.  Ignoring shouts from someone to stay put, she chased after him into the corridor.  She called out to him, but he didn’t reply as he stalked down the surprisingly crowded corridor.  Darcy had to weave her way through techs, agents, and armed guards as she followed him to the garage.  He roughly pushed the remains of his bike over and started frantically tearing through the parts.  Some of the techs in the room jumped at his sudden presence. 

Darcy took a painful breath and said, “Steve, what are you doing?”

“An EMP caused the power failure,” he replied absently.  “They’re still looking for the…source.”

He pulled a small cylinder out from under the fuel tank.  It fit neatly in Steve’s palm.  Darcy gulped as he let it drop to the concrete.  He didn’t make a sound as he shoved the remains of the bike to the ground and swept a pile of equipment off a nearby table.  Darcy saw the techs make a run for the door as his rampage continued.  She felt frozen in place, unable to decide whether or not to follow the techs’ example or reach out to stop Steve, though the latter option might be considerably harmful to her health.

She jumped at a hand on her shoulder and looked over to see Natasha Romanoff.  The redhead motioned to the door and Darcy reluctantly did as Natasha silently asked, her eyes on Steve’s livid form. 

She was a mere three steps from the door when Erik’s tall form appeared and grabbed her by the shoulders.  “Darcy, what do you think you’re doing?  You’ve been hurt!  You need medical attention!”

She didn’t realize she was crying until a sob wracked her body, sending pain radiating throughout her torso.  Erik’s countenance changed as he muttered something in his native language and gently pulled her close.  “It will all right,” he told her.  “Everything will be all right.”

Darcy desperately wished she could believe him.

 

* * *

 

Steve had never been more angry at himself.  He wanted to fling himself from a tall building, curl up in a ball, and beat the shit out of something all at the same time. It was his fault. He had been too wrapped up in himself to notice something was off when he wrecked his bike. He should have known. Now a man, however horrible he might have been, was dead, and Wanda was undergoing emergency surgery. His team and their home had been compromised. He only knew how to do one thing. And he'd failed.

"Hey, big guy. The sun's getting real low."

He froze as though he'd been drenched in ice water. "Why would you say that to me?" he asked, not turning to face her.

"It seemed appropriate with you smashing up the place." He could hear the sardonic smile in Natasha's voice. "And it worked."

Steve dropped the twisted piece of metal in his hand and slowly faced his friend. "Where's--"

"Darcy's fine," she cut him off. "You didn't accidentally maim her with a piece of your motorcycle."

Steve felt shame rising in his gut as he felt annoyance at Natasha's ability to read his mind. He picked the EMP device from amid the mess on the floor and tossed it to her.  "I was distracted...just thinking, and I wrecked my bike today. I can see now that this Ward guy planned all of it. He was there so he could put that thing on my bike and I could bring it back in here. This is my fault."

Natasha slowly spun the cylinder around in one hand.  “Grant Ward was one of the best spies SHIELD had.  You’re not a spy, Steve.  You’re a—”

“Soldier.  Yes, I’m aware,” he cut her off sharply.  “I should’ve—”

“Screw what you should’ve done!” she shouted as she stepped closer to him.  “Ward came in here with three men.  Wanda took one out while Vision restored the power.  Your team performed under pressure, and that’s down to you.  You _did_ good.  You even kept Darcy safe.”

Steve felt the shame rising up his neck as he looked down at his shoes at the mention of Darcy’s name.  Natasha’s eyebrows knit together.  “What happened with Darcy?  And don’t say nothing,” she warned.

Steve ran his hands through his hair leaving it sticking up in an uncharacteristic fashion.  Finally, he looked at Natasha and said, “I nearly kissed her before the power went out.  I _wanted_ to kiss her.”

“And you’re ashamed of that?” Natasha asked, folding her arms across her chest.  “I didn’t think you were _that_ Catholic.”

Steve rolled his eyes.  “It’s not that.  It’s just…I don’t know what it fucking is!” he suddenly exploded.  "And she-she knew who Ward was and she lied to me about it and I-I..."

"You still want to kiss her, don't you?"

Steve glared at her. "That's really annoying."

Natasha shrugged. "Reading people is my job. Leading them is yours. And you're not perfect, but you're damned good at it," she told him as she reached out and took one of his hands. "You had a bad night. Now it's time to move on. Stark will be here once he gets out of bed, and every agency on the planet will want Ward once they know we have him. I'll get this thing down to the lab."

Steve sighed deeply as he watched her turn away. He knelt down picked up the now bare frame of his motorcycle and placed it back on the stand.

"Steve," Natasha called out, drawing his attention to the doorway. "Let me offer you a piece of your own advice: don't wait too long."

 

* * *

 

Steve was right about the busted ribs. He'd also been right about her being in shock. Once it had worn off, the full impact of her injuries hit her. She had three "slightly" cracked ribs and a bruise across her back the made her slightly ill to look at. Her dress was ruined, not that she could have put it back on over the thick brace surrounding her midsection. Consequently, she wore an ill-fitting sports bra and a pair of overly large sweatpants with Steve's hoodie as Erik walked her back to her room. Apparently, sobbing into his arms had awoken some unused paternal instinct. When he was convinced she was okay, he finally left her alone. She wanted nothing more than to collapse onto her bed, but the pain in her ribs told her gingerly lowering herself to the mattress was a better idea. She had almost gotten to a position she could call comfortable when she heard a soft knock at the door.

“Godammit, Erik!” she yelled, laboriously getting off the bed.  “I’m a grown-ass woman.  Are you becoming a Jewish mother in your old—”

The sight of Steve Rogers on the other side of her door killed the words in her throat.  She saw his cheeks flush slightly as he looked away from her and she suddenly realized the hoodie she was wearing had been left open.  She quickly wrapped it tightly around herself and muttered an apology.

Steve shook his head slightly.  “No, I’m sorry,” he told her.  “I probably shouldn’t have bothered you.”

“It’s okay,” she assured him as she motioned for him to come inside.  “I wasn’t asleep or anything.”

Steve’s expression was unreadable as he stepped into her room.  She noticed the fresh bandage on his forearm and wondered if he’d hurt himself destroying the garage.  Everyone had said that Bruce Banner kept the monster that was the Hulk caged away.  Darcy surmised that she’d just witnessed the escape of the monster Steve Rogers had been keeping locked away for most of his life.  She couldn’t fault him for it.  She’d felt a vengeful monster clawing at her own insides the moment Ward’s derisive laughter reached her ears.

"I, uh, wanted to talk to you before you leave tomorrow morning," he started cautiously.

Darcy had almost forgotten her intention to go to the new SHIELD HQ. She was starting to have trouble remembering what day of the week it was. "Oh, yeah," she replied casually. "I'm coordinating some personnel and technology exchange with JPL."

Steve scoffed. Darcy couldn't find a trace of humor in his eyes. She tried not to flinch as his hands balled up at his sides sending ripples up the muscles of his arms.

"I'm used to being lied to," he told her in a voice that was calmer than she expected. "It comes with the territory when you work with spies and assassins and Tony Stark. But I've never quite gotten to the place where I just expect it from people.”

Darcy frantically looked anywhere but his face as he took a step closer to her.

“It’s not the lying itself that bothers me,” he continued.  “For whatever reason, I just didn’t want _you_ to be a person that lies to me.”

Darcy gasped painfully and finally looked up into his eyes.  She was expecting anger.  What she saw instead was sadness.  She didn’t know when he’d started to move, but his hand was on the doorknob when she blurted out, “Phil Coulson is alive.”

She saw the muscles tense under his shirt as he slowly turned back around to face her.  “What?” he asked, his voice on the razor’s edge between confusion and anger.

“Phil Coulson is alive,” Darcy repeated, swallowing hard.  “He’s running SHIELD out of an old SSR base in California.  That’s where I’m going tomorrow.  I knew who Grant Ward was because he was on Coulson’s team prior to the Fall.  He betrayed them for Hydra.”

The silence that followed seemed to drag on for an eternity.  When he finally met her gaze, she quietly said, “I don’t want to be a person that lies to you, either.”

Steve’s shoulders relaxed and the anguish in his eyes softened to something resembling curiosity.  “How do you know any of this?”

Darcy shifted uncomfortably and looked down at her feet. "You're not going to like the answer," she warned him.

"You're going to tell me anyway," he replied with only a hint of militaristic authority.

"Sam suspected that Hill and Fury had resources that they weren't being forthcoming about. I mean, you can't just stash a helicarrier in the basement. So, he asked me to look into it."

"Why?"

"So we could use whatever those resources might be to help find Sergeant Barnes."

The tightness returned to Steve's form as his fists clenched and unclenched at his sides. "You're telling me Sam went behind my back."

"He might have been wrong and he didn't want-"

"It doesn't matter why he did it, Darcy."

"I think it does," she argued, her courage rising. "He wasn't being malicious or even subversive. He just didn't want to cause you trouble if he was wrong."

Steve shook his head. "What are you going to do at SHIELD when you get there?"

Darcy blinked at the sudden change of subject.  “I, uh, um, well, I didn’t have a _real_ plan.”

“You are going to walk into a secret base filled with spies without a plan?” Steve asked dubiously.

“They have scientists too.  I know how to handle scientists.  Erik had trouble keeping his pants on the last time we had to deal with an Earth threatening crisis,” she argued.

Steve’s eyebrows knit together and he opened his mouth as though he wanted to say something before closing it and pursing his lips tightly.  Darcy squeezed her eyes shut and tried not to blush as she realized her poor choice of words.  “I don’t mean anything sexual, he just literally said he couldn’t think with his pants on.  Loki really did a number on him,” she explained in a rush.

“I didn’t think that he—never mind,” he said, shaking his head to clear it.  “Why do you think they would, or could help?”

Darcy shrugged. “I’ve met Phil Coulson.  A little self-righteous, maybe, but he’s one of the good guys,” she explained, remembering the matter-of-fact MIB she met in New Mexico.  “And they’ve been gathering a lot of intel on Hydra.  I know Sergeant Barnes wouldn’t go back to them, but that doesn’t mean that they don’t want him back.”

“So, you think that because SHIELD is tracking Hydra, and Hydra is probably tracking Bucky, that we can use them as a short cut?” he asked.

“Sure, that sounds like a plan now that you’ve laid it out so nicely,” she replied with an embarrassed approximation of a smile.

Steve chuckled and folded his arms across his chest.  “You really think it’ll do any good?  Bucky is really good at hiding.”

“From you and Sam armed with only an old KGB file.  But now you’ve got me and my amazing ability to…irritate people,” she finished lamely.

To her great surprise, Steve laughed.  It was a real laugh, too; one that changed his entire countenance and shook his shoulders.  She glared at him in annoyance, but had to bite her lip to keep from laughing with him.  It was such a rare thing; it was positively infectious.

“I don’t doubt your ability to convince Coulson’s people to help,” Steve assured her, his hands placatingly in front of him.  “I just doubt what they’d do with Bucky if they found him first.”

“They wouldn’t—”

“Every intelligence and law enforcement agency in the world is going to want Grant Ward when they find out we have him _just_ because he was a Hydra operative,” Steve explained.  “Bucky did so much more for them for a lot longer.  A lot more people are going to want his head.”

“Bucky was brainwashed.  Grant Ward is a psycho who burned his parents alive.  If there’s a director of an intelligence agency somewhere in the world that gets the difference, it’s going to be Phil Coulson,” Darcy argued.

Steve looked down at the ground.  She could tell from the lines forming and disappearing on his forehead that he was working through something in his mind.  The silence was becoming unbearable, however.

“If you don’t want me to go, I won’t.  I know this is personal for you, and if you had anything to say about it, I wouldn’t be involved at all, and—”

“Darcy,” she was startled to find he’d crossed the room and both of his hands were on her shoulders, “you should go.  Having an open line of communication is a good idea.”

“But you don’t want me to mention Bucky,” she said, verbalizing his unspoken request.

Steve shook his head and softly said, “No.”

Darcy nodded.  “Okay.”

A smirk tugged at the corner of Steve’s mouth.  “That’s all I get?  Okay?”

His tone was significantly lighter than when she had originally said the words to him.  She caught a note of mirth in his eyes she hadn’t managed to see in the time she’d known him.  If she hadn’t still found it difficult to breathe, she would have acted on the urge to kiss the smirk off his face.  As it was, she just returned his smirk and gently pushed his hands from his shoulders.

“Actually,” she said, gingerly walking around him to the bedside table where she’d stashed the tablet, “I sort of borrowed this from Maria Hill.  It’s everything on Coulson’s operation and team up to a couple of weeks ago.  I haven’t been through all of it, but it might be useful if you need to talk to Ward or anything.”

“Thank you,” Steve said finally.

Darcy smiled.  “You’re welcome.”

 

* * *

 

Steve was waiting in the garage when Sam pulled in, having been called back from DC.  Steve’s face wasn’t precisely angry, but it was entirely unreadable, even to Sam.  Natasha may have been able to peg it, but Sam was relatively certain he would be safer reversing and high tailing it back to DC.

“I’m not going to threaten you,” Steve began when Sam was standing in front of him.  “Don’t ever go behind my back again.”

Sam stood up straighter, and resisted the urge to snap a salute as he said, “Understood, sir.”

Steve sighed.  “Good.  Glad we got that out of the way.  Tony’ll be here in ten minutes.”

Sam chased after Steve, his brain still trying to process what had just happened.  Clearly, Darcy had told Steve everything, or even worse, he found out some other way.  He’d have to get the details on how that happened later.  He was also mentally piecing together a timeline from what Natasha had told him had happened over the phone.

“Hey, Cap, when was the last time you slept?”

“What day is it?” Steve replied.

Sam rolled his eyes as he continued following the other man.  There was no way this day was going to get any better.

 

* * *

 

“Rogers, did you break my base?”

Steve rolled his eyes as Tony strolled in.  However much he might blame himself for what happened, he certainly wasn’t going to show it to Tony.

“The EMP device was definitely Hydra,” Natasha said, sliding a tablet across the counter to Tony.

“Not surprising,” Maria hill added.  “Grant Ward was a Hydra plant within SHIELD.”

“That _you_ vetted for Coulson,” Steve added, punctuating his remark with a sharp look in Hill’s direction.

To her credit, Maria Hill didn’t visibly flinch.  She met Steve’s gaze and said, “Lewis really needs to learn the meaning of blackmail.”

 “I’d ask who Lewis is, but I’m still curious as to why we’re talking about a dead guy,” Tony interjected.  “Did the zombie apocalypse start without me?”

“Coulson was only dead for a little while,” Steve began.  “Fury brought him back, gave him a plane and a crew, one of whom is sitting in holding right now.”

“So I have a bloody Captain America trading card on the workstation in my garage because of a guy who’s _not_ dead?” Tony asked, a single hand splayed in front of him in annoyance.

“Yes, that’s what that means,” Steve replied, satisfied that everyone’s eyes were trained on Hill.

She took a deep breath.  “Coulson is alive.  Has been since less than a week after he died.  Grant Ward was apparently a Hydra plant on his team.  For the last year, Coulson has been running a new SHIELD, smaller, still effective.  His team got us the intel on Loki’s scepter actually.  Satisfied?”

“I feel like we’ve missed something,” Wanda said, her voice rough as she walked in, wrapping a sweater around herself, Vision following closely behind her.

“Sort of an OG Avengers thing,” Tony said, waving it off. 

Wanda scrunched her face at Stark before looking at Steve and saying, “Is Darcy all right?”

Steve smiled kindly and said, “She’s a little beat up, but she’ll be okay.”

“Are Darcy and Lewis the same person?” Tony asked.

“She’s the girl who tased Thor,” Natasha informed him helpfully.

“Oh,” Tony grinned.  “I like her.”

Sam raised an eyebrow from the corner in which he was standing.  “Have you even met Darcy?” he asked.

“No, but if she tasing gods, I’m sure we’ll get along great.”

Steve coughed to cover up a doubtful chuckle.

“This is Hydra tech, but it’s pretty low-level stuff,” Tony continued.  “Whoever this guy is, he’s probably just a couple steps above a street thug, which makes it all the more disconcerting that he got in here.”

“The susceptibility to certain electromagnetic pulses in the power system had been identified and an upgrade was due to take place tomorrow,” Vision informed them.

“So, he knew he had to get this thing in here this weekend before the upgrade took place,” Tony muttered.  “How’d it get in here, anyway?”

Steve opened his mouth to reply, but Natasha cut him off. “That doesn’t matter. What matters is we have a potential leak.”

“Or the guy just got lucky,” Sam suggested.

“He’s a spy.  Spies don’t ‘get lucky,’” Natasha replied.

“What about this Lewis girl?” Tony suggested.  “She’s new, right?”

“You said you liked her two minutes ago,” Steve pointed out to him.

Tony shrugged.  “I probably do.  That doesn’t mean I trust her.”

“It’s _not_ her,” Wanda insisted.

“We’re taking your word because why now?”

“That’s enough,” Steve said sternly, staring down at Tony’s nonplussed face.

Uncomfortable silence settled over them.  Tony eventually sighed and said, “As much as I enjoy awkwardness, I’m going to upgrade the entire security system, so no one else can just waltz in here and start stabbing people.  With me, V?”

Vision silently nodded his assent and followed Stark out of the door.

Steve rolled his eyes to the ceiling and let out a long sigh of relief once Tony was gone.  “Is he awake yet?” he asked Hill.

She nodded.  “You clocked him pretty good.”

“I didn’t appreciate the way he was laughing,” Steve replied, rubbing his temples before shoving a tablet toward Natasha.  “You’re up.”

Natasha hummed as she looked through the contents of the tablet.  “Rogers, where did you get all this information?” she asked with a smirk.

“From Darcy.  Who borrowed it from Agent Hill.”

Maria huffed her annoyance.  “I’m going to delay the FBI, the CIA, and whoever the hell else is coming for Ward,” she said before marching out of the room.

“I’m going to make sure she doesn’t plan Darcy’s assassination while she’s at it,” Sam said, following her out.

“Coming?” Natasha said over her should.

“Meet you there,” Steve assured her.

When he and Wanda were alone in the room, he told her, “You should get some rest.”

She nodded.  “I will.  I just…thank you,” she said, finally looking up to meet his eyes.

Steve flinched.  He didn’t understand what she could possibly be thanking him for.  “Wanda, the EMP device was on my bike.  This is _all_ my fault.”

She vigorously shook her head.  “No, it’s _his_ fault,” she insisted, tears forming in her eyes.  “I hurt my friend.  My only friend, and you didn’t run away from me.  You held my hand.  I’m alive because of you.”

The seemingly evacuated his lungs as she wrapped her arms around his waist and cried into his chest.  When he could finally make his arms move again, he placed one hand on the back of her head and the other gingerly on her back.  “You’re on my team,” he told her quietly.  “I’m never going to run away from you.”

* * *

 

“I have always wanted to meet you.”

It wasn’t actually a lie.  Natasha had been told many times that Grant Ward was _almost_ as good as she was.  He didn’t have her talent for seduction, though.  And it wasn’t just because he was a man.  He just was never very good at convincing people to like him.  He had, though.  Coulson’s team had liked him, loved him even.  Otherwise, they wouldn’t have been so obviously hurt when he betrayed them time and time again.

“Likewise,” he replied with the slightest smile.

“I sincerely doubt that,” she replied sweetly.  “I’m pretty sure you weren’t after anyone or anything specific in this facility.  We did a sweep of the surrounding facility.  You had _no_ exit strategy.  Coming in here just to get into the Captain’s head won’t do you any good.  Somebody’s already done that, and she could tear you apart if she took a notion.”

Ward just continued to fix her with that look that was somewhere between a smile and a glare.

“I think you probably wanted to get caught, knowing that we’d have to hand you over to any number of government agencies from which you could easily escape,” Natasha continued.  “That would do a couple of things: a) it would give you a lot of credit with any other Hydra remnants you could find, and b) it would likely put an eye back on Phil Coulson, so you could get to him.”

“Why would I want to do that?” he drawled.

“Revenge,” Natasha said simply, taking a photo of Kara Palamas’ dead body out of the folder on her side of the table and slid it across to his.  “ _Or_ ,” she continued brightly, “maybe it’s love.  Maybe you still haven’t gotten over Daisy Johnson.  That’s what Skye goes by now.  Although, she’s definitely gotten over you if you didn’t get the message from all the bullets she pumped into you.  If I had to take a guess, I’d say she’s probably into this guy.”  She slid across a picture of Lincoln Campbell.  “He’s not an angel by any stretch of the imagination, but he’s never torched his entire family.”

“Is there a point to any of this?”

Natasha smiled at the way the muscles of his neck and jaw had begun to twitch.  “You’re a dog, Ward,” she reminded him.  “Like a pit bull.  Someone holds your leash until they’ve got you pointed in the right direction and then they let you do what you do best.  What I need to know is: is someone holding your leash, or have you gone rabid?”

Ward slowly pushed the pictures away from him.  “There are no strings on me, Agent Romanoff.”

Natasha’s gaze narrowed, but she was careful not to let the anger suddenly bubbling up at Ultron’s words escape her features.  “Who is your informant within this facility?”

Ward smiled.  “What makes you think I have one?” he asked.  “The taunt from the megalomaniacal Stark-bot?  No, that’s just hearsay. Things get passed around, you know.   _I_ am a very patient man.  All I had to do was watch and wait.  The captain is the only one who leaves this facility, but still stays close by.  All I had to do was watch and wait.  And I’m a very patient man, Agent Romanoff.”

Natasha imagined Steve looking terribly downtrodden as he monitored their conversation from the next room, but her face remained implacable.

“Although that girl might not be a very good influence on Glinda the Good Witch, getting her out of the house and taking her to a club like that,” Ward continued. “She was Foster’s flunky in New Mexico, right?”

Natasha just returned his stare, refusing to give him an inch, although her mind was racing as to how Darcy had suddenly figured into the equation.  She smiled and took a breath and said, “I know you think they we’re going to have to turn you over to the FBI, or some other agency from which you can easily escape, but your patience failed to teach you one thing: we’ve always known about SHIELD.  We _like_ Phil Coulson.  You’re not going back to the Feds.  You’re going right back into the loving arms of people who want you dead, or at the very least, want to liberate your testicles from your body.”

She pushed her chair back, satisfied with the brief twist in Ward’s face.

 


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, right? No update for 10 months, then 2 updates in one week. Following me as an author must be troublesome. So thanks guys!

“I could call Coulson, but the CIA is already on their way to pick up Ward.  His team would never get here in time.  We’ve already turned his compatriots over to the Feebs,” Hill reported as they sat around the table in the conference room.

“I just told him SHIELD was coming to give him something to stew on,” Natasha said.  “Who is the Agency sending?”

“Sharon Carter, actually.”

Steve stiffened at the sound of her name.  Natasha had wanted him to ask her out.  Technically, he had before he found out she was his secret SHIELD detail.  When she left SHIELD for the CIA, Steve had had neither the opportunity, nor the inclination to ask her out.  He didn’t feel like actively pursuing spending time with people who lied for a living.  Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Natasha smiling.

“Do we have any SHIELD gear in storage?” she asked.

“Yes,” Maria replied slowly, cocking an eyebrow curiously.

“Natasha?” Steve asked.

“Ward would have known that Sharon wasn’t Hydra, but he probably doesn’t know she’s not SHIELD anymore,” Natasha replied.  “Maggie Vincent was SHIELD, right?  She has the right build if we just put a mask on her.”

“May?” Maria asked.

Natasha nodded.

“All right.  I’ll ask—”

“Stop,” Steve said, cutting Hill off before focusing his attention on Natasha.  “What are you hoping to accomplish by convincing him Coulson’s people are collecting him?”

“I think that’s his ultimate goal; to get back to them and exact his revenge for his girlfriend’s death, or whatever his psyche has come up with,” she explained.  “Ward killed the entire detail when he was taken out of SHIELD custody the last time.  If he thinks he’s going where he wants to go, maybe everyone can survive the trip.”

“That’s a pretty big ‘if,’ Natasha.”

“And the alternative?”

Steve sighed as he flattened his fist on the surface of the table.  “Make sure Maggie Vincent knows the risks and that it’s completely up to her whether or not she goes,” he ordered.

“Understood,” Hill replied, nodding curtly before leaving the room.

Steve groaned and buried his head in his hands, pressing his palms into his eyes in an attempt to clear his mind.  Natasha, for her part, simply waited for him to look back up at her.

“I talked to Darcy.  She’s extremely entertaining when severely sleep deprived,” Natasha said.  “She had to punch some guy that was hitting on her.  Told me you showed her how.”

Steve did his best not to react, but he was sure Natasha caught the look of pride that certainly flashed across his eyes.

“There was also a guy pretty determined to take Wanda home,” she continued.

Steve’s eyes shot up as his gaze toward her narrowed.

“Relax, Big Brother,” she teased him.  “The guy backed off immediately when she turned him down.  Darcy still had his business card in her car.  He checks out.  We’re scrubbing the night club footage looking for whoever Ward had on them.”

“Think you could teach them how to spot a tail?” Steve asked her.

“Clint and I already had a plan to train Wanda in that area,” Natasha informed him.  “We’ll just train Darcy as well.”

An image of Clint jumping out at Darcy and consequently getting tased in the balls bounce across Steve’s brain.  He chuckled involuntarily and covered his mouth to try and hide it.

Natasha arced an eyebrow.  “You’re sleep-deprived, Rogers.”

“I’ll be fine,” he replied flatly.

“No, you won’t.”

“What about the leak inside?” he asked, staring her down as he pointedly changed the subject.

Natasha returned his glare for a moment before continuing, “I don’t think it was an intentional, or malicious leak.  From what we can tell, Ward has been in the area for a while using the Brad Hanson alias.  He wasn’t exaggerating when he said he was a patient man.  All he had to do was wait for a maintenance worker to have one too many beers.  I’ve got Sam talking to people now.  He’s good at putting people at ease.  I was going to help, but I assume you’d rather I talk to Sharon.”

Steve’s mouth formed a grim line in response to her knowing smile.

"I understand why you didn't want to pursue anything with her," Natasha said, covering the hand he had on the table with her own. "But that doesn't mean you shouldn't pursue something at all."

Steve took her hand and leaned forward. "Why is everyone suddenly so concerned about my love life?" he asked, exasperation seeping into his voice as he squeezed her hand.

“You’ve kind of been a huge pain in the ass lately,” she told him sweetly.  “I think we all figure if you get laid, you might loosen up a little.”

Steve felt his ears start to burn.  He knew he’d been a hard ass lately.  He did not realize it had lead to some sort of conspiracy among his teammates.  He supposed it wasn’t as bad as the pool they had going on when he had lost/would lose his virginity.  Natasha was actually only a month off, not that he was ever going to tell her that.  And the only other living person who could confirm it might not even have the memory anymore.

“We also realize that you’re not the sort of person to just find someone to get off with,” Natasha continued matter-of-factly.  “Consequently, we are all concerned with your _love_ life.”

Steve let the silence fill the room as he let his mind drift back to the nightmare in the salvage yard.  “We can go home.”  Peggy’s words still haunted him because he had little idea what a peaceful home actually was.  For a moment, though, he held her in his arms and he knew what love was.  He knew what home was.  He wasn’t entirely sure if he would ever find that feeling again, or even if he deserved it.

“Thank you,” he finally said quietly, gently squeezing her hand.

Natasha smiled.  “You’re welcome, Rogers.”

 

* * *

 

Darcy had managed maybe three or four hours of disjointed sleep between the pain in her ribs and the interruption of Natasha’s brief, but friendly interrogation.  Unable to rest, she started to wander around the facility.  She caught the tail end of Ward’s transfer.  She rubbed her eyes when a woman who looked like Melinda May punched Ward in the throat at something he said to her.  Her eyes found Sam and tugged on his sleeve like a kid.  “ _What_ is going on?” she asked.

“What do you think is going on, traitor?” he whispered.

“Hey, _you_ try actively lying to his face and see how long you last,” she hissed back.  “We’re not handing Ward over to SHIELD.  We can’t be.”

Sam shook his head.  “It’s the CIA.  Maggie Vincent is wearing one of those masks.  It’s all part of a ruse Romanoff cooked up to keep Ward from trying to escape before they get him to whatever hole they’re going to throw him in,” he explained.

She found her eyes drifting from the armored car Ward was being shoved into and to the blonde woman talking to Steve.  She was exactly the sort of person you’d expect a guy like Steve to be with.  She was beautiful, tall, confident.  The catsuit with SHIELD insignia proved that she was in peak physical condition and Darcy found herself shifting uncomfortably.  Sam noticed her discomfort from the corner of his eye and smirked.

“She was his neighbor,” he told her.  “Steve thought she was a nurse named Kate, and it turned out she was a SHIELD agent named Sharon.  She put a gun to Rumlow’s head, so she’s not one of the bad guys, but being lied to still didn’t sit well with Steve.”

That was evident in the short, clearly cold responses Steve was giving the other woman.  Darcy understood why that made her want to smile, but she almost wished he didn’t.

The crowd started to break up and Natasha crossed the corridor to them as soon as she saw them.  “Hey, Sam’s helping me talk to the staff about a potential leak,” she informed Darcy.  “Would you be alright with Clint flying you out to Coulson?”

Darcy blinked, a layer of grogginess still settled over her brain.  “Uh, sure, that’s fine,” she replied, still unsure as to why she was being asked the question in the first place.

“I’d also appreciate it if you didn’t tell him who you’re going to see,” Natasha continued with a smile.

Darcy let the wheels in her brain spin for a moment before she returned Natasha’s mischievous grin.  “You know, old Hawkeye’s not a spring chicken. He might just have a heart attack.”

Natasha’s smile grew.  “He’ll be fine seeing Coulson alive, but there is someone else there whose presence might give him a heart attack.”  At Darcy’s confused expression, she added. “I owe him back for something.  0600 good?”

“Understood,” Darcy replied with a two-fingered salute.

As Natasha and Sam went off, Darcy carefully tried to disappear into the crowd before Steve could see her.  The shock gone and the grogginess clearing from her system, she was suddenly afraid of what might happen if she was in close proximity to him again.  It wasn’t as though she thought she was in bodily danger, but she was in very great danger of potentially throwing herself at him, if she didn’t try to smack him first.  The two options often presented themselves in equal measures.  It was a bad idea, terrible really, to get involved with an Avenger.  Not only was it essentially sleeping with the boss, she’d witnessed what happened first hand when the relationship went south.  But Steve wasn’t Thor.  He wasn’t going to randomly disappear to another dimension.  He could just get a mortar round to the chest and die.  That unpleasant thought twisted her insides.

She quietly knocked on Wanda's door and a soft voice granted her admittance. Wanda's quarters were slightly larger with a sitting area and a four piece bathroom. Darcy had noted that no one apparently trusted an Avenger with their own kitchen. Wanda was on the bed wearing a long t-shirt and sweater, but she clearly hadn't been sleeping. She looked up at her visitor and her eyes started to well with tears.

"Don't you dare apologize to me," Darcy ordered as the other woman opened her mouth. "It wasn't your fault. Not at all."

She sat down on the bed and let Wanda cry onto her shoulder despite her body's protests. 

After Wanda had calmed down she sat back up and said, "I'm so tired, but I can't sleep."

"Same," Darcy told her. "What sort of movies did you have growing up?"

"Oh, I don't remember many," she replied. "They only had Pinocchio at the orphanage."

"You need a Disney princess marathon, STAT," Darcy said, reaching for the remote.

Darcy dozed off during Sleeping Beauty, and awoke to Wanda sleeping soundly next to her. She carefully extricated herself from the bed and pulled the covers up around Wanda, and she suddenly missed her brother terribly, and thought about asking if they could take a side trip to her gran's house the next day. Since they were taking a Quinjet, it wouldn't take as long.

She managed a couple more hours of sleep before her alarm woke her. Showering was an almost excruciating experience with cracked ribs. She found a pair of leggings and a blousey shirt that concealed the brace she was wearing nicely. She hadn't washed her hair as that would have required drying it, and put it up in a loose bun instead. As it was always two steps above freezing on the base, she pulled on Steve’s hoodie as well.  She grabbed the files and tablets she might need and tossed them in her messenger bag.  That was when she noticed her ID and glasses weren’t in there.  She’d left them in her car.  She headed toward the garage and stopped short in the doorway.  Steve was sitting with his bike in front of him on a stand while he reattached a wheel.  Unfortunately, his back wasn’t toward the door, so there was no way he hadn’t noticed her.

“You gonna just stand there all day?” he asked, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth as he looked sideways at her.

“I, um, I just needed something from my car,” she said, quickly making her way to the most mundane vehicle in the room.  She unlocked it without fumbling her keys too obviously and started rooting around for her things.  She tossed some jackets and shirts around, and opened the glove box before she started to panic about her lost wallet.  Then she heard a throat being cleared behind her and turned to find Steve holding her wallet and glasses case.

“The techs took this stuff out when they were searching your car earlier,” he explained.  “I was going to put it back, but I didn’t want to break into your car.”

“Thanks,” she mumbled, taking the things from his hands and dropping them in her bag before shutting the door to her car.  “Do you even know how to break into a car?”

Steve chuckled.  “Yeah, you learn a lot of things during a war,” he told her.

She nodded to broken motorcycle and said, “Did you learn how to work on that during the war, too?”

“Yeah,” Steve said, nodding as he put his hands in his pockets.  “Howard thought I should know some basic maintenance, although Tony would probably think I’m a total dunce with it.”

Darcy found herself staring at his arms above his pockets.  “Your arms are perfect,” she mused.

“Um…”

Darcy’s eyes snapped up as she realized what she’d said.  “I mean, you were pretty banged up and you had a bandage yesterday, and now…you’re fine…”

“Oh, yeah,” he said, taking his hands out of this pockets and rubbing his arms self-consciously.  “I heal pretty quickly.”

“And you don’t even scar?”

Steve hesitantly shook his head.

“That’s not even fair.  I still have a scar from when I was nine.  Here,” she said, grabbing one of his hands and pressing his fingers to the two-inch scar on her scalp.  “I don’t even know how I got it.  I just woke up in the hospital with a headache and terrible haircut.  Gran never told me what happened.  It was probably super embarrassing. I probably tripped and exposed myself on the playground or something like—”

While her mouth ran away with her, she hadn’t noticed that his fingers had stopped tracing the line of her scar and had threaded themselves through her hair.  She didn’t even realize how close he’d gotten until his lips pressed softly against her own.  Though time seemed to stop, Darcy’s mind raced.  She felt elated and very silly all at once, and she had no idea what to do with her hands.  Fortunately, her lips seemed to have a mind of their own, and responded in kind until Darcy felt her lungs might burst.

 

* * *

 

“Here,” Darcy said, grabbing his hand and placing it on her scalp.

He felt the raised scar on her head and wondered what could have possibly ripped her head open so violently at the age of nine.  Then he noticed how soft her hair felt between his fingers.  He hadn’t ever touched her like this.  He felt a little guilty for not taking in every word she was saying, but he just wanted to touch her more.  He pressed his lips to hers, and for a moment worried he made a mistake until she mirrored the pressure of his movements, encouraging him.  The hand not tangled in her hair pressed into the small of her back.  He realized a moment too late that was a mistake as Darcy gasped in pain and pulled away.

“Sorry,” he said to Darcy’s wide-eyed face, as he started to back away.  “I didn’t—”

Darcy suddenly reached out and grabbed his face, pulling him down.  Their teeth clattered together and he could feel her nervous laughter reverberate against his lips.  As her arms snaked around his neck, he let his fingers thread through the hair on the back of her head with his other hand safely on her hip.  They stayed entwined until the need for air forced them apart.  Both of them still gasping for air, he pressed his forehead to hers and looked down into her blue eyes.

“Uh, I can come back, but we were supposed to leave ten minutes ago.”

Barton’s voice resounded through the room like ice water.  Steve quickly stepped back from Darcy.  She was red-faced and looked almost angry, though Steve couldn’t quite tell what she was angry about.  She grabbed her bag in a huff and wordlessly marched out the door past Barton.

“See you later, Cap.”

Steve did not miss Barton’s barely contained glee as he left the garage.


End file.
